

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 













ADRIENNE 



ADRIENNE 



BY 

Mrs. frank L. HOY 

I) 


NEW YORK AND WASHINGTON 

THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 

1906 


LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 


DEC 11 ^906 



Copyright, 1906 

By The Neale Publishing Company 


TO 


MISS L. EDNA TODD 














ADRIENNE 


CHAPTER I 

On the outskirts of a lovely Southern suburb, 
surrounded by picturesque and extensive 
grounds now all bathed in spring-time’s golden 
sunshine, stood an imposing-looking structure. 
From the central tower of this building a deep- 
toned bell struck the hour. Then came a crowd 
of girls of all sizes and ages hurrying out on the 
lawn, proclaiming, by joyous shouts and ring- 
ing laughter, the noon recess. Josie Colson and 
Adrienne de Courcelles, this moment passing 
through the open door of the reception-hall out 
upon the broad walk leading to the main 
entrance gate, began to stroll up and down, 
apparently engaged in earnest conversation. At 
the same time, over the smoothly cut grass, 
Kittie McVea came forward to meet them, 
gracefully swinging her hat by the ribbons, her 
short frowsy hair glittering in the sunlight and 
her dark blue eyes sparkling with life and mis- 
chief, as she sang out in her clear, strong voice 
the Marseilles Hymn. 


8 


Adrienne 


“Hurrah, Kittie 1 ” Josie called, halting in her 
slow promenade. “You have heard the late 
news? I am sure of it, by the way you are 
shouting the stirring notes of that martial 
song.’" 

For a moment Kittie stopped short, but 
recovering herself, she answered, with a laugh- 
ing glance into Josie’s eyes, 

“Considering the fact, Josie, that you have 
repeatedly declared I am given to the sen- 
sational, I can’t see why you should be sur- 
prised at any effort on my part to keep up my 
worthy reputation. But as I have never guessed 
a riddle in my life, pray relieve my curiosity at 
once by telling me the news.” 

“Good gracious ! girl, you don’t mean to say, 
since the woods are alive with the wild and 
exciting report, that seventy-five thousand men 
have actually been called into service in the 
North, and that the South is working day and 
night to meet the emergency, that you haven’t 
heard we are going to have war in earnest?” 
Kittie seemed to ponder seriously over Josie’ s 
words ; but suddenly she said, with a little flash 
of spirit shining in her eyes, 

“Well, I call it nothing short of an immense 
relief to have the momentous question settled 
at last, while I shall not hesitate to acknowledge 
that the prospect of soon seeing an army in 
battle array, marching to the music of fife and 


Adrienne 


9 


drum, fills me with the direct inspiration to put 
on my war paint and rush forward to the fray.” 

“Is it so,” laughed Adrienne, a little de- 
risively, “that by a series of brilliant military 
coups on your part. Miss McVea, you would 
have your name go down to posterity among the 
annals of American history. But I will venture 
to say, Kittie, the first roar of guns on the battle- 
field would effectually cool any romantic zeal 
you may feel disposed to indulge in that 
direction.” 

“Then,” said Kittie, darting a mischievous 
glance toward Adrienne, “you do not approve 
of a woman taking active part in defense of her 
country ?” 

“Not that I am stilted in my ideas of things, 
but she would be infinitely more useful in her 
place at home working for the soldiers who are 
fighting for her home and rights.” 

“Bah !” Kittie retorted, half-mockingly, “that 
is all sentimental bosh. Suppose, like Joan of 
Arc, one of our patriotic Southern women 
should feel it a duty during a serious conflict, 
to come to the front ?” 

“To give you a plain answer, I am sure I 
could never imagine a woman making herself 
conspicuous in any public movement, even 
though she be led by the over-weening desire to 
prostrate herself on the sacred altar of her 
beloved country.” 


10 


Adrienne 


But this moment the crash of a brass band 
playing a familiar march, being heard in the 
street, the girls, forgetting the subject in hand, 
hurried away in time to see a company of 
soldiers, whose bayonets, as they paraded by, 
flashed and glittered in the noon-day sun, all of 
whom were perfectly conscious of the many 
bright eyes focused upon them from the college 
grounds. 

‘‘Speaking of angels,'^ sang out Kittie, glibly, 
“here are the soldiers now marching on, which 
reminds me my recitation in ancient history 
comes in the next ‘division,’ when I must tell of 
noble work accomplished by Aristides in form- 
ing the Athenian Confederacy — instituting 
important political reforms, and at last dying 
in the full confidence of his people. And my 
friends,” cried Kittie, now merrily striking the 
attitude of a popular speaker as she raised her 
voice to be heard by the laughing group of girls 
near by, “I am glad to say here in the presence 
of you all, that I earnestly pray we of the South 
may be so fortunate as to have a leader who will 
emulate the illustrious statesman and general, 
Aristides, of ancient Athenian renown, who 
will free us from the threatened yoke, and estab- 
lish the liberty of the Southern Confederacy. 
But, hark! the chapel bell is calling us to dis- 
perse each to her own sphere of duty.” And 


Adrienne 


11 


now laughing gaily, as she beckoned the crowd 
of g^rls to follow, Kittie suddenly vanished 
behind a thick cluster of trees. 


CHAPTER II 


Kittie McVea was the daughter of a well- 
known wealthy Mississippi planter. Her child- 
hood having been passed in sunny places, 
naturally she was happy tempered, carrying 
about with her an atmosphere of fresh young 
life that captured all hearts. It is known that 
opposites attract one another, so it was not sur- 
prising that gay, debonair Kittie should have 
been won by the sweet gravity of Adrienne de 
Courcelles, whose exquisite personality drew 
her irresistibly within the charmed circle of her 
influence, a cordial friendship at once develop- 
ing between them that was to endure the test of 
years. 

It was in the morning, a week later than the 
foregoing, that Kittie was running headlong 
down the chapel stairway when she came sud- 
denly upon Adrienne standing beside the 
window on the landing, deeply absorbed in the 
contents of a letter. Her curiosity awakened 
by the look of unusual gravity on Adrienne’s 
face, she asked abruptly, 

‘'Unpleasant news, Adrienne ?” 

The girl, raising her eyes, answered with a 
sad inflection in her voice, “Your surmise is 


Adrienne 


13 


correct. This letter is from my guardian, Mrs. 
Somers of New Orleans, you know, urging me 
to return to the city without delay.’’ 

'‘Upon my word,” Kittie blurted out, indig- 
nantly, "what has induced her to hurry you off, 
without so much as consulting your choice in 
the matter?” 

"Though it would never enter my head to 
question the propriety of my guardian removing 
me from school at pleasure,” said Adrienne, 
reflectively, "I must admit that I am at a loss to 
fathom this sudden demand, unless, indeed, it is 
on account of the floating war reports, together 
with the fact that Charles, her only son, who 
has already enlisted in the army, is looking 
every day to be sent to the front in Virginia. 
Ah! as he is his mother’s idol, I know it will 
break her heart to see him go. I remember so 
well that his Chesterfield manners were my 
childish admiration, but his inordinate disposi- 
tion to tease was always a bug-bear to me.” 

"But, Adrienne,” Kittie here interrupted, 
"tell me of your father, whom you have been 
expecting so anxiously. Has he yet reached 
America ?” 

"Alas I” she answered, trying to steady her 
voice, while a melancholy shadow crept into her 
eyes, "I am beeinning to fear this trouble 
between the North and South has entirely 


14 


Adrienne 


upset his plans, and perhaps will delay his 
coming indefinitely.” 

‘^Oh, well,” was the soothing reply, for Kittie 
had noticed the quiver on Adrienne’s lips, and 
the starting tears in her eyes, ^^you should not 
let this unfortunate condition in the affairs of 
our country worry and distress you too much. 
I am sure all will come right in the end. .Mean- 
time, when you are gone, Adrienne, it will be 
SO lonely here for me, I have decided to quickly 
follow your example.” 

“Would not that be sheer nonsense, Kittie, 
when it is your privilege to remain through the 
session ? As for me, alas ! my duty is so plain, 
that no matter how reluctant I feel, I must set 
to work to make preparations to leave.” 

Knowing Adrienne’s departure would be the 
initial step toward breaking up the school, 
which he felt powerless to prevent, the president 
evidently was very much annoyed at receiving 
the peremptory message from her guardian. 

In the mean while, Adrienne and Kittie 
employed the few hours left to them in the 
endeavor to conceal behind smiles the real 
sorrow they were feeling at being so unex- 
pectedly separated. But when they parted at 
last at the carriage door, Kittie’ s face grew sad 
as she said, 

“Have you thought, Adrienne, of how differ- 
ent things will be when we meet again? We 


Adrienne 


15 


have been so free from care and responsibility 
all these months, at school, that it is only 
reasonable to expect a great change to come in 
our lives/^ 

“The change may prove unpleasant, but we 
must be cheerful and patient under the trial. 
For what would be the good of looking on the 
dark side, and thus rob life of much of its 
brightness by borrowing trouble 

“Ah, Adrienne, I know so well your faculty 
for discovering the ‘silver lining.’ But I must 
acknowledge that I find it difficult to smile 
when I am parting from a dear friend, with so 
vague a prospect of meeting again.” 

“I am certain, Kittie, there is no way but to 
run the race before us to the fulfilment of our 
destiny as cheerfully as possible,” was 
Adrienne’s practical answer, though a veiled 
sadness was in her eyes. But the ready protest 
on Kittie’s lips being cut short by the moving 
carriage, Adrienne scarcely had time to wave 
a tender, smiling adieu to her weeping friend, 
when, by a sudden turn in the street, it disap- 
peared from sight. 

Adrienne sank back on the carriage seat, 
heaving a deep sigh, as she gave herself up to 
a moment of reverie. “Ah,” was her thought, 
“I have started out at last on the road that will 
finally lead to my father, and though the way 


16 


Adrienne 


may be long, and perhaps beset with difficul- 
ties and delays, I am resolved to press on, let- 
ting nothing hold me back until I reach his lov- 
ing arms.” 


CHAPTER III 


At length, after hours of tedious travel over 
a rough road, the train steamed into the noisy 
depot at the city of New Orleans. Adrienne, 
who kept her seat until the rush of departing 
passengers had subsided somewhat, all at once 
observed approaching a soldier in the uniform 
of an officer, whose roving glance over the pass- 
ing crowd soon wandered to her smiling eyes. 
For, though he had grown into stalwart man- 
hood since their last meeting, she had not failed 
readily to recognize him, and springing to her 
feet with out-stretched hand, she cried, 
''Charles, is it really you?’' 

His face lighted up with an eager smile as 
he made his way to her, taking her hand in his 
own, and regarding her features with a warm 
admiring gaze as he said, 

"And you are Adrienne, who left us a little 
girl seven years ago. But the only familiar 
feature I find in so grown-up a young lady is 
the bright welcome in the same great dark eyes 
of your childhood.” 

"Have I indeed changed so much?” and she 
laughed delightfully as she ran her amused 
eyes over his smart uniform. "But, Charles, 


18 


Adrienne 


though I knew you at a glance, I must admit 
your transformation in this regalia is simply 
marvelous, not to say anything of the change in 
your appearance in other respects, since we 
parted seven years ago. And do you know, I 
have experienced no small amount of curiosity 
in regard to your mother having consented that 
you should join the army.” 

“But she has never consented,” was the grave 
response, “nor can she be induced to allude to 
the subject; concluding, I suppose, since em- 
ploying a substitute would not be compatible 
with her idea of patriotic principles, there is no 
help for it; and very soon, Adrienne, I shall 
have to resign mv place at my mother’s side, 
and go forth in the discharge of duty into new 
and strange paths. But the assurance that you 
are with her will indeed be comforting to me 
in my absence, whether in tent or upon the bat- 
tle-field.” His eyes, as he spoke, were bent 
Upon the lovely face of the girl at his side, 
whose quick look of concern up into his grave 
face told of the great sympathy she held in her 
heart for him. 

“You know, Charles, that however anxious 
I am to do all I can for my guardian, I shall 
not be able to fill your place in any sense of the 
word.” 

“Nevertheless, I am confident of happy re- 
sults. And if mother can succeed in maintain- 


Adrienne 


19 


ing this apparent tranquil frame of mind I shall 
be able to leave for Virginia with at least some 
degree of self-command.” Having reached the 
carriage during these remarks, Charles now 
placed Adrienne on the back seat, following 
and taking the seat beside her. But during 
their transit between the depot and Mrs. Som- 
ers’s residence, the girl, now conscious of feel- 
ing utterly worn out, pressed her aching head 
against the cushioned back of the carriage, clos- 
ing her eyes, when presently Charles turned and 
addressed her. 

‘‘By the way, Adrienne, I must not forget to 
mention that we are expecting guests at the 
house this evening, several of whom, knowing 
you are to arrive, are looking forward to the 
pleasure of meeting you.” 

She raised her head with a tired little shake, 
but her eyes brightened as she said, 

“There is nothing, I am sure, that would give 
me more pleasure than meeting your friends; 
but I shall have to own that I prefer a little rest 
to anything this evening.” 

Charles meditated a jocose reply, but stoop- 
ing and scanning the girl’s face, now looking 
so white by the light of passing street lamps, 
changed his mind, and said gravely, 

“As you are looking a trifle fagged, 
Adrienne, I shall see to it that you are allowed 
to pass unmolested up to your room, shut your- 


20 


Adrienne 


self in, and resign your body and mind to the so 
much needed rest/' 

‘'You are thoughtful, and I thank you," she 
said, with a quick smile into his eyes. 

This moment, the carriage drawing up in 
front of a brightly lighted residence, Charles 
promptly assisting Adrienne out, led the way 
up the steps to the entrance and rang the bell. 
The door suddenly opened and Mrs. Somers in 
person stood before them. Adrienne seized her 
hands. 

“This is pleasant, indeed !" said she. “I never 
would have known you, Adrienne!" and she 
took the girl affectionately into her arms, and 
kissed her tenderly. Then drawing her under 
the hall light, proceeded to regard the beautiful 
face with pleasure and interest, the girl herself 
feeling rather embarrassed under so much pro- 
found, eager scrutiny. 

“Naturally," she replied, the low, sweet voice 
delighting her guardian, “the lapse of seven 
years would bring about a change in a growing 
girl. But, Mrs. Somers, I am truly glad to 
find you the same. Your brow is every whit as 
smooth as I remember, when a child, to have 
noticed it, and your eyes have the same flash of 
vigorous thought — " But here the words were 
arrested upon her lips by a ripple of merry 
laughter coming from the direction of the par- 


Adrienne 


21 


lors, when Mrs. Somers, turning hurriedly to 
Charles, said, 

“Sure enough, my son, our guests are all 
here, and among them is Belle Conrad. And 
as we must attend to our duties, I will insist, 
Adrienne, that you go to your room at once, 
for I know you are very tired.” 

“Yes, Adrienne,” laughed Charles, “you cer- 
tainly have quite a dilapidated look. So I am 
sure the bed is the best place for you.” 

“Here, Marie,” Mrs. Somers said to the maid 
this moment passing through the hall, “show 
Miss de Courcelles to her room. I hope you 
will pardon my not going with you, Adrienne. 
Be sure and bring the roses in your cheeks when 
you come down in the morning. Good-night, 
child ; Marie will see to all your wants. Come, 
Charles,” and as they moved away in the direc- 
tion of the parlors, Adrienne turned and fol- 
lowed the French maid up the long stairway to 
her room, which she found so lovely, airy, and 
soothing to her tired senses that, with a sigh of 
relief, she began to prepare for bed, and was 
soon lying among dainty pillows sleeping 
peacefully as a little child, unconscious of the 
sounds of gaiety floating up to her room from 
the parlors below. 


CHAPTER IV 


Adrienne made a tardy entrance into the 
breakfast-room the next morning, a little pale 
perhaps, but wonderfully lovely. Charles, who 
had finished the meal, and had turned aside 
scanning the morning paper, greeted her with 
a cordial smile, coming forward to meet her, 
and saying, with hearty cheerfulness as he led 
her to the table and placed her in a chair, 

“I judge by the brightness on your face, 
Adrienne, that the goddess of sleep was not 
wooed in vain. I am truly glad you escaped 
the bustle that seems always to attend even so 
small a gathering.” 

“You are very flattering,” she laughed, “if 
you would insinuate that I have nerves of a 
rheumatic, and would be morbidly sensitive to 
the sound of a little merriment. On the con- 
trary, I was oblivious to everything until the 
break of day, and this morning find myself 
fully restored and in my right mind.” 

“But, do you know, my child,” Mrs. Som- 
ers interrupted, as she busied herself pouring 
out a cup of coffee for Adrienne, “I have just 
been lamenting to Charles that you have for- 
feited a diploma by leaving school so early.” 


Adrienne 


23 


Adrienne suppressed an open smile at this, as 
she turned to her guardian and said with amuse- 
ment in her eyes, but indifference in her voice, 
“I am sure my future welfare and happiness 
will not be materially injured by the loss, and 
hope you will not think me odd if I frankly 
confess that I have given the matter very little 
thought. For what, indeed, does the mere form 
of graduating signify?’' 

“You surprise me, Adrienne,” said Charles, 
shrugging his shoulders, while a quizzical smile 
played at the corners of his mouth. “And cer- 
tainly you are unlike other girls, who are de- 
lighted at drawing public notice and applause 
upon their personal attractions, as well as their 
intellectual attainments.” 

She glanced up quickly, with a laugh in her 
lovely eyes as she answered, 

“Never fear, Charles, that I am an excep- 
tion to the majority of giddy girls who are 
flattered by commendation and applause, nor 
do I claim indifference to striking effect in the 
sense to which you allude. But, pardon me, I 
should so much like to know something of the 
doings of the city under the present military 
regime?” 

“As a matter of fact, Adrienne” — he paused, 
looking down upon the bright face with a smile 
— “the city, socially, is topsy-turvy. But I 


24 


Adrienne 


know so little of what is going on outside. I 
am not prepared to give you the desired infor- 
mation. Of one thing, however, I am ready 
to assure you of my own command, that our 
display of regimentals on the parade ground 
never fails to call forth from the New Orleans 
circle a number of the gay and fashionable. All 
of which, should you feel disposed to accompa- 
ny me this afternoon, may give you pleasure 
to see.'' 

‘‘Oh, I should be so pleased," she said, in 
accents attesting her delight at his proposal. 

“All right," was the hearty rejoinder, “then 
I shall be on hand in time to take quite a drive 
before the dinner hour. But as I am now due 
at camp, I must be off. Remember, Adrienne," 
he called out as he hurried from the room, “I 
shall be here promptly at the appointed time. 
Au revoir." 

“I trust, Adrienne," said Mrs. Somers, as 
the door closed behind Charles, now giving the 
opportunity for which the girl had been wish- 
ing so much, “the sudden summons home was 
not a shock to you. I thought you would 
understand that it was caused by the uproar 
and excitement in our land, which decided me 
to bring you away from school before the sit- 
uation should grow too serious." 


Adrienne 


25 


‘‘It is no doubt for the best. But, do you 
know,” she said, slowly and dejectedly, her 
voice trembling under restrained emotion, “this 
trouble in our country has a sorrowful mean- 
ing for me. For I indeed realize how fruitless 
any attempt would be from my father to reach 
me, and I am bitterly disappointed.” 

“Really, Adrienne,” Mrs. Somers answered, 
much moved with pity and kindness at the 
girhs keen distress, “I cannot say how much 
I sympathize with you, and am glad you have 
made up your mind to speak of your father, as 
it will be a relief to you and will do you good. 
But I advise you not to fret and grow melan- 
choly over circumstances that are a little dis- 
couraging, I admit, but feel nevertheless mat- 
ters will regulate themselves in time, while this 
trouble between the North and South will soon 
blow over. Meantime, my child, you should 
consider the pleasure and comfort you will be 
to me, until your father shall take you away 
to his distant home in the East, where, I am 
certain, he intends residing permanently. Con- 
sequently, we may never expect you to return 
and be one of us again.” 

At this moment, however, there was a sud- 
den check to the conversation, as Hans, the 
man servant, opened the door and announced 
“Mrs. Vincent.” Mrs. Somers, rising at once, 


26 


Adrienne 


and moving forward, greeted her guest most 
cordially, then turned to Adrienne. “Mrs. Vin- 
cent, this is my ward, Adrienne de Courcelles, 
of whom you have often heard me speak.” 

“I can’t say how pleased I am to meet you. 
Miss de Courcelles,” the light of pleasure and 
admiration shining in her eyes as she bent them 
upon the girl, at the same time pressing her 
hand warmly. As they were seating them- 
selves, talking pleasantly together, Mrs. Vin- 
cent said, 

“I must explain, Mrs. Somers, having only 
a moment to spare, that my informal call this 
morning is prompted by my desire to meet and 
invite your ward in person to a reception at my 
house Thursday evening- next, given in honor 
of all my young New Orleans acquaintances, 
among whom. Miss Adrienne,” now smiling 
sweetly upon the girl, “I am anxious to include 
you. And as you have Captain Somers, who 
will take great delight in escorting you, besides 
there will be no opposition from your guardian, 
I shall not expect a refusal.” 

“On the contrary,” returned Adrienne, in 
tones of girlish candor, pleasure dancing in her 
eyes, “I shall only be too delighted, and thank 
you very much.” 


Adrienne 


27 


Now drawing her eyes slowly away from 
Adrienne’s beautiful face, Mrs. Vincent re- 
marked, 

‘‘I can imagine, Mrs. Somers, since it has 
been my misfortune to be shut out from re- 
turning to my home in Washington City, what 
a relief it must be, during all this tumult and 
confusion of war, to have your ward away from 
a distant boarding-school. I little thought 
when I came to New Orleans for the benefit of 
a mild winter, such an unpleasant delay was in 
store for me. But I am philosophical, by 
nature, and thinking it wise to yield gracefully 
to the inevitable, I am not spending my time 
bemoaning my fate. I am sorry indeed, ladies, 
to tear myself away from your good company, 
but as I have started out this morning with 
every hour engaged, I shall really have to take 
my departure and hurry on. We will soon 
meet again. Adieu.” 

When the carriage rolled away from the 
door, Adrienne sat a moment, with a look of 
dreamy thoughtfulness in her eyes, thinking of 
the dignified repose in Mrs. Vincent’s bearing, 
and the charm of her fascinating face. Then 
remembering her promise to Kittie, that she 
would write her immediately upon her arrival 
home, ran up to her room, and soon, with fly- 
ing pen, was giving a graphic account, for Kit- 


28 


Adrienne 


tie’s amusement, of some of her experiences on 
her way down to the city, not forgetting to 
mention, at the close, the delightful drive with 
Charles she had in anticipation that very after- 
noon to see her first field drill. 


CHAPTER V 

True to his appointment, Charles, looking 
spick-and-span in his uniform, drove up in an 
open Victoria. Seeing Adrienne already seated 
in the cool shade of the veranda, looking lovely 
in her dainty, beautiful dress, swinging down 
from the carriage and coming quickly up to her, 
he said, in laughing tones, 

‘‘To the minute. Miss de Courcelles. This is 
punctuality indeed.” 

She rose to her feet, with a ripple of humor 
in her eyes, as the ready retort came from her 
lips, 

“My punctuality being simply in accordance 
with Captain Somers's express request upon 
leaving the house this morning, I can’t see why 
it should be so great a surprise. I am sure I 
could not afford to delay our first engagement.” 

“I hope Miss de Courcelles will allow me to 
say,” bowing apologetically, “That I think she 
has set a worthy example to her charming 
sisters, who rarely practice the virtue, prefer- 
ring rather to regard it a trait of minor con- 
sideration, and very little worth their while to 
cultivate.” 


30 


Adrienne 


‘‘Ah/’ she answered, turning her eyes on him 
full of smiling irony, “I must confess to have 
been taken altogether unawares by Captain 
Somers’s flattering opinion of my charming 
sisters.” 

“I must apologize again, for words that seem 
to have so rudely oflfended Miss de Courcelles’s 
sensitive ear,” he laughed genially, “and will 
suggest, as time waits for no man, the propriety 
of starting out on our drive. It is now five 
o’clock to the minute,” turning the face of his 
watch toward her for inspection. “I regret to 
say that our road, at this angle of the blazing 
sun, does not lead through the sweetly smelling 
country, nor does it pass beneath the edges of 
shady woods. But we shall have protection 
part of the way at least under the shadow of 
tall buildings.” 

They started off in hilarious spirits, Adrienne 
the while laughing merrily over Charles’s fre- 
quent gay sallies. But the carriage, presently 
turning aside from the crowded part of the city, 
was rolling slowly down the street leading be- 
side the river front, when Charles suddenly 
called Adrienne’s attention to a beautiful ves- 
sel, all white and gold, lying anchored some 
distance out on the calm unruffled water. The 
sailors standing round in groups on the decks, 
uniformed in white, their caps ornamented 


Adrienne 


31 


with gold bands, added an indescribable grace 
and beauty to the picture, upon which the girl 
gazed in silent delight. 

“What kind of craft is it, Charles?” she 
asked directly, with a little catch in her voice. 

“See, Adrienne,” he returned, “the British 
colors flying from the foremast ? It is an Eng- 
lish yacht. Mr. Strafford, with Avhom I am 
acquainted, accompanies his ship. He is on a 
pleasure cruise and has been anchored in our 
port quite awhile. Judging by the length of his 
stay, he must have found something of interest 
to detain him. Ah, there he is now, coming 
ashore.” 

Turning her eyes in the direction indicated 
by Charles, she saw a small white boat rapidly 
nearing the landing, soon disembarking its one 
passenger, whom she discovered, as he crossed 
over to the waiting carriage, in which he took 
his seat and was whirled away, was of emi- 
nently distinguished bearing, tall and erect. 

“Do you know, Adrienne,” presently said 
Charles, with a gleam of irony in his eyes, giv- 
ing his usual short laugh, “I am just reminded 
of the fact that the present war excitement is 
surely an impediment in the way of this Eng- 
lishman becoming the celebrity our gay-plu- 
maged society birds have conspired to make 
him, so evident is the flutter of their brilliant 


32 


Adrienne 


wings, if perchance a glance from his High- 
ness should fall on them. Young ladies — is it 
not so? — in the matter of a sensation are pro- 
verbially gregarious.’^ 

"‘Have a care, Charles,” she said, flashing 
on him a look of laughing rebuke. find that 
it is well for my peace of mind there is a tacit 
agreement between you and me to approach 
this subject very gingerly.” 

crave your pardon,” throwing her a look 
tinged with raillery, ^^and beg of you — with a 
promise never to repeat the blunder — to bear 
with me this time.” 

They were now progressing rapidly over a 
hot, dusty highway, exposed to the piercing 
rays of the afternoon sun, which Adrienne 
managed to partially ward off by the gossamer 
protection of her delicate lace sunshade. On 
turning aside at last into an opening over which 
the entire stretch for miles seemed covered with 
soldiers’ tents, Adrienne soon forgot, in con- 
templating the novelty of the scene before her 
eyes, the uncomfortable drive. The field was 
occupied by several artillery companies, en- 
gaged in going through the maneuvers of the 
drill in obedience to clarion notes of command 
ringing out on the rich glory of the brilliant 
summer afternoon, filling her soul with a deep- 
er glow of patriotic fervor, as she began to 


Adrienne 


33 


realize why brave men fearlessly face danger, 
and nobly sacrifice their lives for what they 
deem the Cause of Right. But the thought sud- 
denly springing into her mind that she could 
claim neither father, brother, nor any other 
kindred in ranks, brought with it a sense of iso- 
lation that saddened her spirits, and settled her 
features into a gravity and sadness infinitely 
touching. The next moment, allowing her eyes 
to wander slowly down the long line of visit- 
ing carriages drawn up within the enclosure, 
filled with the elite of the Crescent City, — with 
young ladies whose faces were alight with 
bright expectant smiles, — all at once her glance 
fell upon the familiar face of Mrs. Vincent, who 
sat, in company with a beautiful blond young 
lady, in one of the most elegant equipages 
present. Adrienne felt irresistibly drawn to- 
ward the wonderful beauty of this fair yet dis- 
dainful-looking young lady, and gazed upon 
her precisely as she would have regarded an 
exquisite ideal ^‘head” from under the creative 
brush of some famous artist. And so absorbed 
was she in her silent occupation that to Charles, 
who had been trying to get her attention, she 
scarcely gave heed. 

“See, Adrienne,’’ he persisted, “the officer 
in command this afternoon is Major Winthrop, 
a brave soldier, who will early win distinction, 


34 


Adrienne 


which to my mind (though it is said he is an 
all-round society man, and a favorite with the 
ladies) is the most important and attractive of 
his characteristics. But I feel for him at pres- 
ent the sincerest commiseration in that he is 
suffering from the pangs of unrequited love, of 
which Miss Belle Conrad is the object. Yet it 
seems strange indeed that he should not have 
so profited by observation as to have spared his 
pride at least the mortification of such a 
tumble.^' 

‘Is it not so, Charles, that in a similar situa- 
tion you would have done the profiting?” said 
Adrienne, glancing into his face with a breezy 
little smile. “But pardon me,” she quickly 
amended, now noting the rush of color over his 
face, and the shadow that momentarily 
darkened his eyes. “Your remark is somewhat 
enigmatical to one who has not the slightest 
knowledge of the two in question, and now I 
would suggest that in order to avoid the dust 
and press of the crowd we should take advan- 
tage of the comfort of leaving before it begins 
to move.” 

Having recovered himself, Charles readily 
agreed to this. But the next moment dis- 
covered, as they turned into the road skirting 
the camp, they were not alone in the desire to 
escape the crowd. An open carriage, in which 


Adrienne 


35 


a distinguished-looking man was sole occupant, 
passed them, who, as he lifted his hat to 
Charles, at the same time riveted his eyes upon 
Adrienne, calling forth from Charles a short 
laugh as he turned to the girl and said teasingly, 

“His Highness, the Englishman, Adrienne, 
whose open stare of admiration at you, leaving 
your humble servant altogether out of the ques- 
tion, overstepped the bounds of good breeding. 
However, as I do not feel in the humor for a 
weighty discussion, I am disposed to pass the 
matter over lightly.” 

But there being no response to this little piece 
of satire, — the girl having turned her face 
away, eagerly watching the flying objects by 
the roadside, — the irrepressible Charles began 
to descant volubly upon the merits and charms 
of his many lady acquaintances, among whom 
Mrs. Vincent was prominent in her share of 
admiration and praise, Adrienne listening 
dreamily as they bowled along through the 
sweetly scented air, over the beautiful shell 
road toward the city. But turning, directly, she 
said in a deprecating way, 

“My acquaintance with Mrs. Vincent is very 
slight indeed, but I had fancied her different 
from what you are pleased to term her devo- 
tion to fashionable circles. She impressed me 
as one whose pleasures and pursuits are of the 


36 


Adrienne 


more highly intellectual — far above the aspira- 
tions of a mere worldling.” 

^‘For the life of me, Adrienne,” he said, with 
droll assumption of seriousness, can’t 
imagine wherein one’s partiality for fashionable 
circles should clash with one’s higher intellec- 
tual training, or even spiritual pursuits. With 
your sober ideas of life, how do you propose 
employing your time from day to day? But 
instead of trying to grapple something beyond 
your reach, causing you to grow old before 
your time, I would advise you to cultivate a 
taste for the ‘giddy whirl,’ and laugh while you 
may.” 

“Alas, Charles,” she said, while an odd little 
smile played over her features, “my on’y pur- 
pose in life, which supersedes everything else to 
me, is to press forward on the road that will 
take me to my father. Nevertheless, I thank 
you for the concern you so flatteringly mani- 
fest on my behalf, and for the earnest sugges- 
tions you have offered with so much wisdom 
and consideration, and promise you — my 
nature not in the least inclined to the ascetic — 
the world is sufficiently luring to prevent my 
ever making a nun of myself.” 

“For which,” in comic tones of relief, “I am 
devoutly thankful. But here we are at the 
house. By the way, Adrienne,” now lifting her 


Adrienne 


from the carriage with care, ‘‘please say to 
mother that I am detailed on special duty this 
evening, therefore will not be able to dine at 
home as I had promised. Au revoir,” and 
springing back into the carriage, he was soon 
out of sight, while Adrienne, now standing 
alone on the sidewalk, turned and slowly 
walked into the house with a preoccupied air, 
and something like moisture in her dark eyes. 


CHAPTER VI 


Recently released from monotonous routine 
of school days, naturally Adrienne found, 
among- the large circle of acquaintances and 
friends that frequented Mrs. Somers’s hospit- 
able residence, very pleasant resource. But as 
she struggled daily to subdue the ever-increas- 
ing desire for definite tidings from her father, 
she had not settled upon any plan for the future. 
Meanwhile, a long, irregular letter from Kittie, 
despite the fact it was burdened with complaints 
from beginning to end, had given her genuine 
pleasure. Kittie declared that since Adrienne’s 
departure the college had grown so insupport- 
able, she had concluded to put her firm resolu- 
tion to go home into immediate effect, and with- 
in the limit of a few hours would be going on 
her way rejoicing. Adrienne sighed. As a 
matter of fact, this letter having brought to 
mind so vivid a recollection of her merry friend 
Kittie, that in the evening, finding herself a 
strange guest in the midst of the gay, buzzing, 
fashionable throng that filled to overflowing 
Mrs. Vincent’s brilliant parlors, looking round 
upon the lovely picture made by the beautiful 
women in gleaming silken dresses ornamented 


Adrienne 


39 


with flashing jewels, and listening to the charm- 
ing ripples of laughter floating out on the per- 
fume-ladened air, her thoughts naturally flew 
back to the gay, pleasure-loving Kittie, who 
would have been in raptures over a scene so 
fascinating and delightful. There was a wist- 
fulness in the girl’s eyes that touched Charles, 
and surmising the cause he managed to 
draw her on through the exquisitely dec- 
orated rooms. As they conversed in low 
tones, the delicate fragrance from a pro- 
fusion of flowers, entrancing strains of music 
coming from an invisible orchestra, all con- 
spired to smooth her spirits into a sensation of 
dreamy delight. But presently they were com- 
pelled to halt, being wedged into a corner, oppo- 
site another couple, by the passing crowd. 
Facing this couple, both of whom bowed smil- 
ingly to Charles, he turned quickly to Adrienne, 
and said, 

“Adrienne, allow me to introduce Miss Con- 
rad and Mr. Strafford — Miss de Courcelles, 
my mother’s ward.” 

With one comprehensive glance, Adrienne 
knew the Englishman, and bowed gracefully, 
with a deeper color than usual on her cheek. 
But recognizing at once in Miss Conrad the 
beautiful blond who had attracted her so unex- 
plainably, whom she had seen in company with 


40 


Adrienne 


Mrs. Vincent on the parade ground, she flushed 
slightly under the scrutiny, bowing gracefully 
to the well-bred stare with which Miss Conrad 
saw fit to favor her. After a mutual exchange 
of courtesies, however, they drifted apart, 
Charles and Adrienne passing out on the side- 
walk toward home, while the beautiful fair- 
faced woman and stately Englishman continued 
on their way down the crowded hall, talking 
freely, when suddenly looking up into the face 
of her escort Miss Conrad idly remarked, 

‘‘Mr. Strafford, did you not observe how very 
foreign in air and look was the young girl with 
Charlie Somers? Or were you so dazzled by 
the sunshine of her smile that you did not 
notice ?” 

“Unquestionably,” he replied, “the rich mag- 
nolia tint of the young lady’s complexion, the 
lovely dreamy eyes, and dusky hair,, would pro- 
claim her foreign descent.” 

“Ah,” she said, half-laughing, “are you not 
a close observer to have noticed as much in so 
short a time ?” 

“Pardon me, but I will say that I have had 
the pleasure of seeing the young lady in ques- 
tion once before this evening. Nevertheless, I 
am sure the unusual type of her beauty could 
not fail to attract in any crowd even the passing 
notice of an entire stranger,” was the deliberate 


Adrienne 


41 


answer, an amused smile hovering upon his 
handsome mouth, which, however, now look- 
ing down, she did not seem to see. She laughed 
again lightly, and proceeded to change the con- 
versation into a channel of more interest to her- 
self, moving with ease from one subject to 
another, keeping up a lively chat as she occa- 
sionally wove into her sentences morsels of deli- 
cate, sparkling wit. 

In the mean time, Charles and Adrienne had 
been walking some little distance through the 
quiet streets, when the girl suddenly addressed 
him. 

“You must not think me silly, Charles, if I 
acknowledge that I have great curiosity to 
know something of this Miss Conrad to whom 
you have just introduced me.” 

“And I am able to gratify your curiosity only 
in so far that I can assure you of her nativity as 
a Virginian, of one of the most prominent fami- 
lies in the State, at present visiting a bachelor 
uncle, her father’s brother, who is living to 
himself in his lovely home in this city. I am 
sure you think her beautiful ?” 

''Very/' emphasized Adrienne, “yet she 
seems cold and disdainful.” 

“Precisely, you have struck the keynote to 
her nature,” a quick, short laugh following the 
sentence, though the hot flush that spread over 


42 


Adrienne 


his face, but for the friendly shades of night, 
would have openly revealed the state of his 
heart to the girl’s observing eyes. 

''But, Charles,” she answered dryly, "after 
a little reflection it does seem that we should be 
more inclined to the charitable, and less critical 
in our thoughts and remarks.” 

"I am not uncharitable, at all events,” he 
laughed, with a slight tinge of bitterness in his 
tone, "when I say the young lady’s manner 
toward the Englishman is sufflciently transpar- 
ent to admit of no misrepresentation.” 

"Charles,” she asked, laughing, "do I not 
detect a vein of satire running through your 
velvety tones?” 

"You have discovered possibly the rooted 
prejudice of a commoner toward the aristoc- 
racy,” said he, with a short, sarcastic laugh. 

"How absurd and ridiculous you grow, 
Charles, and what a waste of words. Let us 
get back to something sensible.” 

"With all my heart. By the way, Adrienne, 
I must not forget to disclose the important fact 
that I have in my possession several invitations 
to distribute, one each for mother and yourself, 
to an entertainment given by Mr. Strafford on 
his yacht, under the auspices of Mrs. Vincent 
(who, it seems, is an acquaintance of several 
seasons’ standing) shortly before the day fixed 


Adrienne 


43 


for his departure from port, in compliment to 
the uptown ladies, who have received and 
treated him with so much hospitality. The 
usual programme — music, dancing, moonlight 
promenades on deck, etc. — will be the order of 
the evening. And I would add, with your per- 
mission, that Miss Conrad doubtless is indulg- 
ing delightful anticipations of the coming 
event.'’ 

‘Which is all a fanciful idea of your own, 
Charles, though,” a sudden luminous smile 
lighting up her face, “it is not to be denied 
there is sufficient attraction to suggest the in- 
dulgence.” And now saying “good-night,” for 
they had reached the entrance at home, she ran 
swiftly up the steps, and vanished through the 
front door before Charles could frame a reply. 
Staring after her he wondered in his own mind 
if so dainty a piec-e of femininity could really 
be intentionally rude. The laugh was still on 
Adrienne's face as she ran lightly up to her 
room, but she soon sank, tired and sleepy, on 
her bed, at once blissfully unconscious of the 
worries that beset her waking moments and 
shadowed her life from day to day. 

At the same time, only a few blocks away. 
Miss Conrad and Mr. Strafford were standing 
in front of her own door, the hall light now 


44 


Adrienne 


shedding its mellow rays down upon their faces 
as she asserted, 

‘‘Yes, Mr. Strafford, I have always thought 
it natural a stranger from abroad should be an 
interesting personage, and hope you will not 
think me aggressively curious in wishing to 
know your opinion of us on this side of the 
Atlantic — of our country at this particular 
crisis.’^ 

“I am willing. Miss Conrad, to freely 
acknowledge that the independent spirit I have 
found prevailing in the Southern States is 
utterly at variance with the set rules which have 
controlled my life hitherto. But, since I have 
breathed, if I may so express myself, the senti- 
ments of its people, I have grown to admire 
your country so genuinely that I would fain 
adopt its principles as my own.” 

“Ah,” she interrupted impulsively, “perhaps 
we may yet hear of you enlisting in our cause 
to help us in dire emergency.” 

He shrugged his shoulders as he answered 
gravely, ' 

“The present outlook of your country. Miss 
Conrad, is indeed sad to contemplate. The 
voice of liberty so dearly bought by the Ameri- 
can people will soon be drowned in the con- 
fusion of the approaching contest. For in this 
unfortunate division, or separation of the 


Adrienne 


45 


States, the Confederates have on their 
shoulders a colossal undertaking, while the op- 
posing section, in numbers, influence, open 
seas, and the accompanying prestige of sailing 
under the stars and stripes, stands out pre- 
eminently on the vantage ground. But I will 
say good-night, as I have already detained you 
too long in the damp air.’’ And with an im- 
perial bow Mr. Strafford walked out to the 
waiting carriage, while as it rolled rapidly on 
its way down the street the young lady stood 
with eyes bent upon the vanishing vehicle, mur- 
muring to herself, with considerable chagrin, 
‘'After all, his eagerly sought for opinion was 
anything but clearly defined, while I am im- 
pressed with the thought, that no matter how- 
genial he tries to be, there is a certain exclu- 
siveness in his bearing that is more in keeping 
with the etiquette of a European court than 
our American customs and unconventionalism. 


CHAPTER VII 


“What a lovely Sabbath morning!” Adrienne 
exclaimed aloud as she drew aside the lace cur- 
tains at her window and peeped up into the deep 
blue summer sky now dotted over by a few 
fleecy clouds floating lazily in the distance like 
small white-winged ships, while as she breathed 
the fragrance of tea roses from the trellis be- 
low there was an added thrill of delight run- 
ning through her entire being. 

Resolving at once that she would take a stroll 
in the beauty of the morning hours, she 
announced her intention at the breakfast table 
of attending service at Trinity Church. Mrs. 
Somers readily agreed, adding, 

“The singing is the attraction, I suppose, 
Adrienne. It is very fine I am told, and you 
will hear an eloquent sermon. But as I have 
always made it a rule never to leave my own 
church at regular service, I shall have to forego 
the pleasure of accompanying you.” 

“Ah, Mrs. Somers,” the girl said quickly, in 
a tone of apology, “please allow me to go with 
you. For I am sure I shall be quite as highly 
entertained.” 


Adrienne 


47 


‘‘By no means must you think of changing 
your plans for the day, when you can go with 
me any other time, and as often as you like,” 
was the reassuring reply. 

So at half past ten o’clock, Charles not yet 
having put in an appearance from camp, 
Adrienne started alone to church. She was be- 
comingly dressed in smoke gray, of rich 
material, hat and gloves corresponding in color 
and effect. She moved lightly along, her heart 
warming under the influence of the sunshine, 
while in the gardens she passed on her way 
brilliant winged butterflies whirled amid the 
rich colored roses, and on the lovely lawns an 
army of little birds were twittering among the 
branches of the trees. “Ah,” she sighed, “what 
magic in nature; how thankful I am for the 
gift of enjoying it all.” 

A moment later, as she entered the vestibule 
of the church, chancing to meet Miss Conrad 
and Mr. Strafford face to face, who entered by 
the opposite door, looking up with surprise, she 
encountered the splendid eyes of the English- 
man fixed upon her, who returned her grace- 
ful recognition with a courtly bow. Her 
cheek was flushed with a vivid glow as she 
turned to follow the usher down the aisle, which 
gradually faded away under the soul-inspiring 
voluntary pealing forth from the organ. Kneel- 


48 


Adrienne 


ing- reverently in the pew assigned for her use, 
the light through a stained window now touch- 
ing her hair and beautiful figure, she sent up, 
with deep humility of heart, an earnest petition 
for guidance and protection, adding a special, 
supplicating prayer for a speedy reunion with 
her father. After a while, as she rose, her face 
was white, but beautiful with a new and tender 
light. 

The singing was all she expected to find — 
heavenly and uplifting. But the sermon, from 
the unique text ^‘Remember,’’ though it was ar- 
ranged in accordance with the most approved 
Episcopal orthodoxy, and delivered with im- 
pressive earnestness, alas, she found at times 
quite difficult to follow. 

The services over at last, the congregation 
crowded into the aisles in the usual way, press- 
ing forward to the doors. Mr. Strafford was 
being carried irresistibly along by the human 
tide, his eyes alight with expectancy as he 
flashed them into the pew in which the young 
girl had sat. But suddenly the eager, hopeful 
light in them changed to grave disappointment, 
for he had discovered she had already dis- 
appeared among the receding crowd of people. 
In the mean time, Adrienne had progressed a 
block or more on the road home, indulging idle 
dreams as she walked along, the subject of her 


Adrienne 


49 


thoughts being Mr. Strafford, who, though she 
was unconscious of it, had interested her from 
the first. Inexperience being her safeguard, 
she had not thought of him in the light of a 
lover. She was thinking of his regal bearing 
as he had bowed before her in the vestibule of 
the church, of his singular fascination and dis- 
tinction of manner, recognizing that beneath all 
his polish there was a substratum of pride and 
masterfulness that attracted her irresistibly. 
But the unbidden thought of Miss Conrad sud- 
denly jingled the harmony of her musings, set- 
ting in motion so unpleasant a vibration of the 
heartstrings that, quickening her pace until she 
had reached the entrance at home, flying up 
stairs to her room and closing the door, she pro- 
ceeded to call herself severely to order. An 
hour later Adrienne appeared at the dinner table 
in the presence of guests, with no apparent 
trace in her white face and composed manner of 
the conflict so recently ruffling her sensitive 
nature. 


CHAPTER VIII 


The evening for Mr. Strafford’s entertain- 
ment came at last. Adrienne’s heart, it must be 
owned, was all atingle with bright expectation 
in view of the occasion, the novelty of which 
was calculated to impress and captivate the 
spirit and fancy of a romantic young girl. On 
the stroke of eight o’clock, having finished her 
toilette, she was turning away from the mirror, 
when there came a light tap on the door, and 
Marie entered. 

'‘Mamselle, Madam wishes to see you in the 
parlor,”, she said. 

^Ts she alone, Marie?” 

“No, Mamselle, a gentleman, whom I have 
never seen before, is with her.” 

Wondering who it could be, she crossed the 
hall and swept lightly down the stairs. Open- 
ing the parlor door, to her surprise she found 
herself in the presence of Mr. Strafford, seated 
beside Mrs. Somers engaged in conversation. 
But as she entered, he rose, with a flash in his 
eyes, coming forward to meet her, handsome 
and distinguished looking. Adrienne’s cheeks 
flushed as she gave her hand into his a moment, 
but bending her head slightly, passed on to the 


Adrienne 


51 


window and stood looking out into the street, 
thus leaving him to return to Mrs. Somers and 
finish the conversation which evidently had 
been interrupted by her sudden entrance. 

'‘So, Mr. Strafford,” Mrs. Somers continued, 
“you have come to escort us in Charles's place 
this evening. It is kind of you, I am sure.” 

“I shall deem it a great privilege if you ladies 
will grant me so much pleasure,” he answered 
smilingly, in his most suave manner. 

“Adrienne,” Mrs. Somers said to the girl, 
who turned at once facing them, “you have 
heard Mr. Strafford’s kind offer to escort us in 
Charles’s place this evening. He has been de- 
tained in camp until quite too late to accom- 
pany us.” 

The girl’s dark eyes were now turned upon 
Mr. Strafford with a sunny, assenting smile, as 
she inclined her figure with incomparable grace. 
He felt unexplainably influenced by the mag- 
netism of her exquisite personality as he looked 
upon the charming face, the slender lissome 
figure beautifully gowned in filmy white, worn 
over white silk, her only ornament a cluster of 
delicate pink tea roses fastened at her belt. At 
this point the appearance of Marie in the door- 
way, bearing on her arm the ladies’ wraps, was 
the signal to start, and the next moment they 
were speeding swiftly toward the river. Mr. 


52 


Adrienne 


Strafford, who occupied the opposite seat in the 
carriage, was soon engaged in animated con- 
versation with Mrs. Somers, in which at first 
Adrienne took no part, though something of 
what they were saying occasionally caught her 
ear, particularly a fragment of the last sentence. 

“The Southerners,’' Mr. Strafford was say- 
ing, “give a striking illustration of their patri- 
otic timber by the go-ahead activity and en- 
thusiasm with which they rush into matters.” 

“I have long since found out,” Mrs. Som- 
ers interrupted energetically, “that to accom- 
plish anything in this life one’s heart and will 
must be deeply interested and enjrrossed in the 
work in hand. Our whole souls, as you may 
imagine, are absorbed in the success of our 
cause, and though our reward may prove only 
the down-fall of our cherished hopes, we never- 
theless shall have full consciousness of having 
been loyal to duty. By the way, Adrienne,” 
she said to the girl, who sat gazing abstractedly 
out of the carriage window, “notwithstanding 
the fact that you have ever regarded the North 
as your native place, where you would be per- 
haps at the present moment could your father 
have reached you in time, I have taken for 
granted you are with us in this struggle.” 

She looked up quickly, and surprising by the 
light of passing street lamps an intent though 


Adrienne 


53 


amused glance from Mr. Strafford, a smile 
flickered in her eyes as she answered promptly, 

“I am certain, should my sentiments incline 
me ever so much toward the opposing cause, 
that in my present position as the exception 
among so many ardent Southern supporters, I 
should hesitate to express myself.” 

‘‘Then it is from prudential considerations 
Miss de Courcelles prefers to withhold a decla- 
ration of her sentiments on the question. Is it 
not so?” said Mr. Strafford, laughing, and 
shrugging his shoulders lightly. 

The girl flushed proudly under his amused 
gaze. 

“On the contrary,” she hastened to say, “I 
will cheerfully acknowledge, that however 
much I may deplore the South having been 
rushed unprepared into the contest, its position, 
should it prove a protracted struggle, being in- 
deed serious, I nevertheless am satisfied to have 
my lot thrown in with the rise or fall of its 
people.” 

But this moment, the course of conversa- 
tion being interrupted by the abrupt halting of 
the carriage, they found they had reached the 
landing, where a boat, with colored lights sus- 
pended fore and aft, was in waiting, attended 
by two sailors in picturesque yacht uniform. 
While, lying some distance out from shore, a 
brilliantly illuminated ship was sending lines 


54 


Adrienne 


of light in every direction across the smooth 
surface of the water. 

“How lovely!” exclaimed the girl in genuine 
tones of delight. “Do you suppose, Mr. Straf- 
ford,” looking up into his face with a charming 
little smile, “it is a thing of magic that will van- 
ish at our approach ?” 

“By no means. Miss de Courcelles,” laugh- 
ing lightly, as he bent his handsome head so 
that he might more plainly see the radiant up- 
turned face. “I am sure it is better as you 
see it. Distance, you know, often lends en- 
chantment to the view.” 

Mr. Strafford proceeded at once to arrange 
for the comfort of the ladies on a cushioned 
seat in the boat, and placing himself on a seat 
opposite them, gave the signal to start. They 
were pushing off from shore, when the distant 
roll of drums in the city reached their ears. 

“Alas! that sound, and all it suggests,” 
breathed Adrienne in low tones, “is in appalling 
contrast to the lovely scene before us.” 

“Yes,” said Mr. Strafford, reflectively, “it is 
true, these dreaded war agitations not only 
oppose the doctrine of peace, but effectually 
destroy the beauty and harmony of society.” 

“Yet,” answered the girl, with an upward 
glance into his face, “does not all history prove 
that a crisis is sure to come in the affairs of 
every country, which alone can be settled by 


Adrienne 


55 


sacrifice of blood? But the wonder is, that in 
gravest perils we can engage in most trivial 
matters. Certainly we are happily constituted.” 

“Which proves that it is wise not to worry, 
but leave everything in the hands of a Judge 
who is the arbiter of nations,” said Mr. Straf- 
ford, with conviction. 

“Allow me to suggest,” Mrs. Somers inter- 
rupted with a slight tremor in her voice, “that 
as we are out strictly to enjoy ourselves this 
evening, we leave the gruesome topic of war 
out of the question for the present.” 

Adrienne suddenly bowed her head, and 
sat quite still, and a marked silence fell on them. 
But after a moment of suspense, relief came in 
the usual calm, self-composed tones of Mr. 
Strafford’s voice addressing Mrs. Somers in 
his usual deferential manner. Adrienne sighed 
as she leaned forward to catch the sweet strains 
of music floating out to them from the dazzling 
splendor of the illuminated yacht, upon whose 
decks presently she descried several officers 
grouped together chatting and smoking. 

Mrs. Vincent, the gracious dispenser of hos- 
pitality, was soon welcoming them most cor- 
dially. The scene that met their eyes was a 
dream of delight, rendered so by the profusion 
of flowers distributed in every direction in 
every nook and corner, and by the handsomely 
gowned ladies and distinguished - looking 


56 


Adrienne 


soldiers. Nevertheless, Mr. Strafford’s com- 
ing did not fail to create considerable stir among 
the bevy of pretty girls. Miss Conrad, now all 
beaming smiles, was conscious of every glance 
from his eye. Even the light that flashed over 
his features if perchance he met Adrienne, was 
faithfully chronicled upon the tablets of her 
memory. Apparently, as the evening pro- 
gressed, every one was in a transport of mirth 
and happiness, yet Adrienne, whose pleasure 
was dampened by a vague feeling of unrest, 
scarcely repressed the conviction of coming 
trouble. 

The hours were drifting to a close when Mr. 
Strafford sought the fulfilment of Adrienne’s 
promise to him for the last dance. He had 
watched the preoccupied look on the girl’s face, 
the shadow that seemed to darken the fasci- 
nating, dreamy eyes, and ventured to say, as he 
came up to her, 

‘T am thinking you are surfeited with all 
this, and are wishing yourself safely out of it.” 

She looked up with a quick smile, replying, 

*‘Not this moment, I assure you, as I look 
upon the swaying figures to soft strains of 
music. Oh ! how I love music, that seems to 
have been created for my own unspeakable de- 
light.” 

The second’s silence was broken by the crash 
of the orchestra, and the next moment they 


Adrienne 


57 


were moving- with inimitable grace to the per- 
fect time of the music, the observed of all eyes. 
Mr. Strafford, his heart throbbing with happi- 
ness akin to pain, felt that the entire pleasure 
of the evening was centered in this, the last 
waltz. But when the move was made at last 
to disperse, Adrienne was sensibly relieved, 
though down in the deep recesses of her soul 
she knew that no matter what the future might 
have in store for her, this evening- in all its glow 
and beauty would ever remain in her mind, the 
brightest and most vivid of her recollections. 

Meanwhile, Mrs. Somers had wakened to the 
fact that Charles had not put in an appearance 
according to promise, and on account of the 
defection, Mr. Strafford was gallantly endeav- 
oring to soothe her manifest worry and dis- 
tress. Quick to detect the note of constraint 
in his voice, however, Adrienne also began to 
feel excessively uneasy at Charles’s unexplained 
absence. They were standing ready to start, 
waiting Mr. Strafford’s return, who had been 
absent a moment, when, to Adrienne’s surprise, 
she saw him coming forward with Miss Conrad 
by his side, whose face, with the exception of 
the disdainful curve of the lips, was entirely 
impassive, and her manner stiff and unrespon- 
sive. Mr. Strafford, however, as he promptly 
took charge of Mrs. Somers, politely requested 
the young ladies to follow as he led the way. 


58 


Adrienne 


with which they complied, neither speaking as 
they walked side by side to the waiting boat, 
which, with its human cargo, soon shot out on 
the quiet water in the fresh tropical breeze, the 
silvery moonlight falling round them like a 
halo. Adrienne, giving no outward expression 
of the subtle delight that swelled her heart, sat 
with uplifted face, full of rapture, longing, in 
the magic, the allurement of the moment, that 
she might sail on forever. But all at once her 
romantic imaginings received a sudden jolt by 
the touch of the keel against the landing, 
when their ears were saluted by the noisy blast 
of brass bands parading down the street, fol- 
lowed by a long line of artillery wagons, 
mounted with heavy cannon, the import of 
which Mrs. Somers seemed to comprehend at 
once, as she sat down abruptly upon the near- 
est seat, throwing out her hands as though 
to ward off a blow, and inquiring in a nervous 
manner, 

“What is the meaning of this, Mr. Straf- 
ford?” 

“My dear madam,” he answered gravely, 
looking down upon her face, “since a moving 
body of soldiers is an every-day occurrence, 
why excite yourself so unnecessarily on account 
of it?” 

“Alas,” she said, “I am convinced of how ut- 


Adrienne 


59 


terly unprepared I am to meet this trouble so 
near me,” a choking sob ending the sentence. 

Having observed Mr. Strafford’s divided 
duty, Adrienne ventured to assure him there 
was no necessity he should accompany them 
home. He turned to her with a smile. 

appreciate your effort. Miss de Courcelles, 
at affording me relief in this little dilemma. I 
will explain that Miss Conrad’s escort having 
been called away to duty during the early part 
of the evening, I could not refuse his earnest 
request to see her home safely. And now, Mrs. 
Somers,” turning to the sad-faced lady, “I will 
say good-night, hoping your worry may vanish 
at sight of Captain Somers waiting your re- 
turn.” Then taking Adrienne’s hand with a 
lingering pressure, he spoke a few words at 
parting, with so tender an inflection in his voice 
that the bright color came tingling into her 
cheeks, of which he was not aware, of course, 
as he closed the door, stepped back and lifted 
his hat, allowing the carriage to pass swiftly out 
of sight. He stood a moment with a decided 
pang of regret tugging at his heart, but turned 
slowly away and walked the few paces back to 
Miss Conrad, who evidently waited his coming 
with ill-concealed impatience, which, engrossed 
in his own thoughts, he did not seem to see, 
but sat, as they rolled through the quiet streets, 
waiting her pleasure to speak. 


60 


Adrienne 


“Mr. Strafford,” at length said she, “I wish 
to thank you for the lovely entertainment you 
have so kindly given for our pleasure. I have 
spent an evening almost perfectly happy.” 

“The pleasure has been mutual, I assure you. 
Miss Conrad, the memory of which is indelibly 
written upon my heart. While my ship has 
taken additional value to commemorate the 
event.” 

“But is it true, Mr. Strafford, you intend 
leaving New Orleans so early?” 

“I am at this hour due at Norfolk, so my 
early departure from Louisiana’s sunny shore 
is a fact I must bravely stare in the face. 
Though it seems a paradox that one should be 
in pursuit of pleasure in a land struggling in 
the throes of civil war, it would only be right if 
one would stretch forth a helping hand toward 
one’s suffering neighbors.” 

“Certainly,” she answered, sending a swift 
side glance into his face, “it is not expected of 
foreigners to pick up cudgels in our defense.” 

“Pardon me,” now turning the light of his 
splendid eyes upon hers, “I cannot see the im- 
propriety of meeting the Northerners upon 
their own ground; for is it not known that 
foreigners are constantly swelling their ranks ?” 

“Your opinion, Mr. Strafford, is disinter- 
ested, and well meant perhaps,” said she in 
crisp tones, “but I hope indeed we may be able 


Adrienne 


61 


to pull through the difficulty without having to 
call on foreign aid. In the mean time, are you 
not in danger cruising around our coast?” 

“We sail under colors friendly alike to North 
and South. The British flag is the insignia of 
our protection,” he answered promptly, in most 
courteous tones. 

But there was something evidently awry with 
Miss Conrad, whose usual equipoise threatened 
to desert her at so critical a moment, a fact 
upon which, on his way back to the river, Mr. 
Strafford was disposed to reflect seriously, hav- 
ing felt the flavor of displeasure — notwith- 
standing the strenuous effort made at repres- 
sion — that had obviously marked her manner 
during the evening. But upon reaching the 
yacht, Mr. Strafford found all traces of the 
evening’s festivity already removed. The only 
sound breaking the silence aboard ship was the 
regular step of the guard as he paced his usual 
rounds. 

Hurrying to his pillow, unpleasant conjec- 
tures were soon forgotten in sleep. Visions of 
his lovelv guests of the eveninp* floating, as it 
were, in billows of tulle and lace, soon began to 
pass in review before his dreaming imagination. 
But the scene suddenly changed from gilded 
salons to the darkness of a raging storm on the 
ocean. Adrienne de Courcelles, her face rigid, 
in pallor as she stood stranded on a rock far out 


62 


Adrienne 


at sea, looked with strained eyes, amid vivid 
flashes of lightning and terrific peals of 
thunder, upon the on-cominp- waves that were 
to sweep her off irresistibly into a watery grave. 
The terror and helplessness of the situation 
woke him with a shuddering groan, but he had 
a feeling of glad relief to find it only a hideous 
dream. 

With this phantom of the imagination haunt- 
ing him, though he would have vigorously dis- 
carded the idea that his strong nature was 
tinged in the smallest degree with superstition, 
the conviction nevertheless stole upon Mr. 
Strafford’s mind that this charming young girl 
was threatened by a swiftly approaching 
calamity. Accordingly, a day or so later, he 
was found standing in front of the entrance of 
Mrs. Somers’s residence, sending a peal from 
the bell that roused sluggish Hans out of his 
afternoon doze, and sent him shambling along 
to answer the call. But the old darky’s eyes 
opened wide with surprise upon perceiving the 
caller. Presently collecting his wits he 
answered coherently the solicitous inquiries 
after the ladies. 

“I am sorry, suh,” said Hans, bowing elab- 
orately, ‘*but my mistis is absent at present, 
with her daughter, Mrs. Richards. Miss 
Adren, suh, is lef town, on a visit to my mis- 


Adrienne 


63 


tis’s other daughter who lives a long way up 
de river on her plantation, suh.” 

Mr. Strafford turned away at once, disap- 
pointed at this assurance from Hans, and strode 
out to his carriage, his heart filled with agita- 
tion and vexation as he sorely puzzled his brain 
with fruitless speculation over the sudden turn 
in affairs. 


CHAPTER IX 


Mrs. Somers and Adrienne found, upon 
reaching home, Hans waiting to receive them, 
holding in his hand a sealed envelope, which, as 
Mrs. Somers passed him by, he gave into her 
keeping. With a sudden intuition, and unable 
to resist the thought, smothering a tumult of 
feeling, Adrienne slipped away to her room, 
that she might avoid witnessing her guardian's 
overwhelming grief and distress, and was 
standing beside the window, lost in sad medita- 
tion, when her train of thought was interrupted 
by Marie's entrance, who approached and 
silently handed her the letter, which indeed 
proved a hurried scrawl from Charles an- 
nouncing his sudden departure with his com- 
mand for the front in Virginia, which had 
given him no time to seek and bid them good- 
by in person. But his written good-by, though 
infinitely sad, breathed in every line a devotion 
to the Confederate cause, and a fervid belief in 
its final victory. Adrienne felt relieved that 
he had been spared the heart-breaking farewell 
to his mother. 

''Alas ! poor Charles," she sighed, his attach- 
ment for Miss Conrad, which he had tried faith- 


Adrienne 


65 


fully to conceal from herself, now coming up 
vividly before her recollection. Deeply touched 
she had been by the disaster which had befallen 
his heart’s first true affections, while the noble 
manner in which he had fought out single- 
handed the great disappointment of his life, suc- 
ceeding at last in stemming the tide of misery 
that threatened to overwhelm and crush out his 
manliness, appealed to her tender womanly sym- 
pathy and warmest admiration. 

The following day proved a weary heart les- 
son in Adrienne’s experience, as in the direc- 
tion of Mrs. Somers’s rooms she frequently 
heard most pitiful moans, coming from the 
depths of a broken heart. She began to reflect 
seriously over the blow that had fallen so piti- 
lessly on her guardian’s devoted head. While 
the dismal surroundings of the house so de- 
pressed her spirits, she found it pleasant to wel- 
come even Mrs. Richards, — of whose brusque 
manner she was conscious of having stood in 
awe, — who came early, and with designs, judg- 
ing by the length of time she remained closeted 
in her mother’s rooms. 

But as Adrienne sat in the lower hall, trying 
to fasten her thoup-hts upon an interesting book, 
Mrs. Richards suddenly appeared before her. 
Coming forward and taking a seat opposite the 
girl, she proceeded, without preamble, to say, in 
a business-like way. 


66 


Adrienne 


'‘I have been the last hour trying to convince 
mother of the folly of running this establish- 
ment in her present weak condition of health. 
I see the necessity of removing her at once to 
my house, feeling that I, alone, can give her the 
required nursing and attention. But on your 
account she hesitated decidedly, urging serious 
objections. But as I had in my power a pro- 
posal that would set her fears at rest, she finally 
f»*ave her consent, provided it should meet with 
your full and free approval. You must re- 
member, Adrienne, once, when you were a 
small child, to have met my sister Helen, — Mrs. 
Willesly, — from whom I am in receipt of a letter 
this morning, making particular inquiries about 
you, insisting, as she is alone on her plantation, 
a considerable distance from neighbors (her 
husband being absent with his command in Vir- 
ginia), that you must pay her a visit, and come 
prepared to make a long stay. She is lonely, 
and pleads for your company. I have been 
thinking, Adrienne, that until mother is better, 
and it shall be pleasant for you here again, per- 
haps a visit to Helen would prove a most de- 
lightful change for you. However, should you 
prefer remaining in the city, it is unnecessary 
to say other pleasant arrangements can be made 
for your pleasure and comfort.’’ 

“I understand, Mrs. Richards, the peculiar 
circumstances which have brought about this 


Adrienne 


67 


proposal from you, therefore I shall not hesi- 
tate to accept the alternative kindly suggested 
by you.” 

“I am positive, Adrienne, that in the end you 
zvill thank me.” And as she now rose to go, 
looking down into the girl’s sad face, she asked, 
^'Shall I send a message to Helen at once to 
expect you, and let mother know of your will- 
ing consent to my plan?” 

“You can say that I prefer to go, and can 
let Mrs. Willesly know at once,” was the simple 
but firm reply. 

Mrs. Richards walked briskly down the hall 
and disappeared through the end door, the girl’s 
eyes following her with a look of evident relief. 
But now springing to her feet, she ran up to her 
room, and crossing over to a front window 
stood watching the hurrying passers in the 
street, her thoughts busy with the uprising 
thought, “Was ever a girl more unhappily 
placed — more completely wrapped in loneli- 
ness ?” And oppressed by a sense of her help- 
lessness, involuntarily the thought of her 
father’s prolonged absence began to torture her. 
She was no weakling to crave the sympathy of 
others, but felt scarcely able to strive against the 
present emergency in her life. 

The next morning Adrienne was not sur- 
prised at receiving a summons from her guard- 
ian, which she promptly responded to. But 


68 


Adrienne 


when she had reached the bedside, and her eyes 
had fallen upon the sudden and marked change 
in the invalid’s face, wrought by the ravages of 
sorrow, she sank, overwhelmed, upon the near- 
est seat, and for a moment was unable to frame 
a sentence on her lips. 

"‘Alas! Adrienne,” came in a weak, quaver- 
ing voice, ‘1 have had my death-blow ; but per- 
haps I have lived long enough. There is no way 
but to feel resigned to what is beyond one’s 
power to control. But it was not to discuss 
this, however, that I sent for you. While I am 
yet strong enough I want to say to you how 
deeply I deplore the way things have turned out. 
There is some consolation, Adrienne, in know- 
ing you will be pleasantly situated with Helen, 
who is warm-hearted and gay-spirited, and will 
thoroughly appreciate you in every sense of the 
word.” 

“Dear Mrs. Somers, do not let a thought of 
me worry and distress your mind. I shall be 
all right, and should the emergency arise, I feel 
competent to take care of myself. But, as the 
hour is come when we must be separated in- 
definitely, may I ask if it will tax your strength 
too much to give me a very brief statement of 
the cause of my mother’s estranp-ement from 
her father, so much so, that her child should be 
effectually shut out from his sympathy and pro- 
tection?” 


Adrienne 


69 


Mrs. Somers regarded the girl’s face with a 
kind smile, and began, with a certain weakness 
in her voice, to say, 

“To make a long story short, Adrienne, the 
entire trouble grew out of the stern forbidding 
pride of Mr. Stanley, your grandfather, who is 
still living, a type of the old Virginian aristoc- 
racy. His daughter Grace, your mother, being 
very beautiful, was much flattered and admired 
in the stately circle in which she moved. While 
abroad one season she, with her party, fell in 
company with some distinguished tourists, of 
whom Mr.de Courcelles was one of the number. 
Naturally, as they were thrown together during 
the entire season, an attachment between Miss 
Stanley and Mr. de Courcelles was the result of 
the intimacy. Mr. de Courcelles, following 
Miss Stanley home, presented himself before 
her father as a suitor for his daughter’s hand. 
But his proposal was met with so prompt and 
decided a refusal that, feeling bitterly repulsed 
and chagrined, he retired precipitately from the 
field; he taking himself, with his bruised and 
insulted feelings, to the maelstrom of surging, 
busy New York. But, as nothing can turn the 
tide of true love, — it was fate, — Grace, not 
willing to renounce her foreign lover, managed, 
by some inexplicable method, to communicate 
with him, shortly after openly defying her 
father’s wishes and authority by becoming Mr. 


70 


Adrienne 


de Courcelles’s wife, and accordingly was speed- 
ily disinherited, a deaf ear being turned to 
all entreaties for reconciliation. In consequence 
of your mother’s death, which occurred three 
years following her marriage, your father’s 
health was seriously shaken. My sister, Mrs. 
Elliott, who was a close friend of your mother, 
was present at her death, when she took charge 
of you. On a visit to my sister, three summers 
later, in New York, I found you, Adrienne, a 
lovely little girl, and seeing the many demands 
on my sister’s time sociallv and otherwise, I 
besought your father to turn you over to me. 
He consented finally, — knowing he must soon 
start out upon a prolonged tour through the far 
East for the restoration of his health, — with the 
assurance of his gratitude, and satisfaction at 
having you placed in such kind, responsible 
hands. Besides, he was pleased at the idea of 
having you educated in your mother’s native 
land. It was his declared purpose to have been 
here at the present time, which of course has 
been prevented by the unfortunate trouble be- 
tween the North and South. Doubtless he is 
waiting in New York for an opportunity of 
seeking his ‘little girl,’ for as such he seems 
always to speak of you. A happy future waits 
you in his congenial companionship, Adrienne, 
as he is yet quite young to have a grown 
daughter. You must have known, by the 


Adrienne 


71 


elaborate provision made always for your pleas- 
ure and comfort, that your father is a very rich 
man. I hope indeed he may be satisfied with 
your training and education.’’ 

‘'I am satisfied, dear Mrs. Somers, You 
have been everything to me from my childhood. 
I can never repay the debt of gratitude I owe 
you.” 

“I am not disposed to take much of the credit 
to myself, my child. For, in one so young, I 
have rarely met with so much decision of 
character.” 

A sudden pallor beginning to settle over Mrs. 
Somers’s face, and her voice faltering from 
weakness, Adrienne, a little startled, rose to 
her feet and withdrew quietly from the room. 
On her way back to her own apartments she 
dwelt upon the meeting with her father yet in 
store for her, bringing a light like sunshine into 
her face, and a radiant gleam of joy into her 
lovely eyes. ^‘How strange,” she mused, ^‘the 
recital of this sad little history should infuse 
new life into mv veins. But, oh, my grand- 
father ! it is the implacable stubbornness of your 
will that has marred your otherwise grand 
character. I indeed shudder when I remember 
my mother in her last hours should have had 
to feel the lash of your unyieldine treatment.” 

With Marie’s assistance, Adrienne’s trunks 
were soon in readiness for the transfer. As she 


72 


Adrienne 


waited the moment in which she was to say 
good-by, and take her departure, there was 
ample time to reflect that she was leaving New 
Orleans perhaps never to return. Driven by 
circumstances over which she had no control to 
make a change in her life, she devoutly prayed 
the change might prove pleasant at least — 
among people of culture and refinement. But 
suddenly a pained look came into her face as 
she thought of her recent parting with Mr. 
Strafford, thinking to meet him so soon again, 
sending a quiver of despair into her already 
aching heart ; while the thought of going so far 
away caused her heart to sink as lead within 
her. “Oh !” she said, “could I but lift the veil 
from the future, which now seems all chaos to 
my confused brain, perhaps the sweet hope that 
it might contain some bright hours to cheer my 
life would not seem a cruel mockery.” 

Marie wept from time to time while getting 
Adrienne’s effects in readiness, and when the 
boxes were packed and strapped, though the 
girl herself was so wretched, she tried to soothe 
and cheer the disconsolate maid with sanguine 
expressions of the hope they would all be 
gathered again under the same roof. 

“For, Marie,” she added, “I am not dis- 
posed to harbor the thought of my guardian 
not being able to rally and grow strong again.” 


Adrienne 


73 


‘^Alas ! Mamselle,” with a sigh, and dolorous 
shake of the head, accompanied with the in- 
evitable French shrug, “my heart indeed very 
much forebode me, that there no hope is for 
poor Madame/’ 


CHAPTER X 


Early in the morning, after a long journey 
through the night, Adrienne found herself 
standing alone on the platform of a country 
depot, with no other habitation in sight. Noth- 
ing could surpass the loneliness of the scene, 
accordingly her spirits sank low, wondering 
within herself if this dismal spot was but the 
beginning of what her life must be perhaps for 
months to come. Groaning inwardly, her 
thoughts flew back to the sunny, pleasure-lov- 
ing flower-scented city she had just left behind. 
And impelled by a tender, yearning, homesick 
feeling, she turned in time to catch through the 
blur of tears the last glimpse of the fast reced- 
ing train as it swept round a curve and vanished 
from sight. She was making every effort to 
overcome her agitation, when a boy, carelessly 
whistling, came along, who, as he shot a look 
into the girl’s tear-stained eyes, stopped 
abruptly, offering, from sheer sympathy, to 
conduct her to a hotel. Accepting with a bow 
of glad assent, she followed as he piloted her 
through a densely wooded region, a few steps 
beyond which she was let into an unpretending 
country hotel. She was very much surprised as 


Adrienne 


75 


she glanced around, to find so much neatness 
and order in the appointments of the place. The 
proprietor came hurrying forward, and when 
Adrienne had made known her wants, with the 
assurance of doing all in his power for her ac- 
commodation, taking his hat from a nail in the 
wall, he hurried out in search of the carriage 
Adrienne had been informed would be waiting 
her arrival without fail. She had not long to 
wait, for after a light breakfast, as she stood at 
the front door watching eagerly for the com- 
ing carriage, to her delight she descried it at a 
distance approaching the house, and as it drew 
near she observed the coachman, though not in 
livery, was neatly dressed in black. He re- 
turned her smiling greeting with the usual dig- 
nified salutation denoting the respect of the old 
slave type. 

Young Mistis, Uncle Abram at yo’ sarvice 
— de Willesly keerage driver fur mos’ two gin- 
erations. If yo’ is ready to start, young Mistis, 
we’ll be rackin’ along. De cart ain’t fur behind 
what’ll fetch yo’ trunks.” 

The girl returned Uncle Abram’s elaborate 
introduction of himself with a bright bend of 
her head and a flashing little smile, proceeding 
at once to place herself and effects upon the back 
seat of the carriage. And presently finding the 
low-roofed hotel shut out from view by inter- 
vening hills, she felt no regret in her heart. 


76 


Adrienne 


though she dreaded the long drive of thirty 
miles Uncle Abram had assured her was the 
extent of their day’s journey. It being a soft, 
glowing day, the breeze played continually 
through the carriajre windows, bringing in with 
it the scent of the wild hedge-rose, now a pro- 
fusion of flowers sparkling with raindrops from 
the night shower, so delightinp* her that she im- 
mediately grew wonderfully interested in the 
country through which she was passing, and 
could not resist leaning her head far out of the 
window in the abandonment of enjoyment, 
breathing with rapture the newness of it all. 
She soon made the glad discovery, as she noted 
an added richness in the foliage of the trees, 
that they were surely nearing the densely 
wooded lands bordering the river. 

The sun was hanging low in the horizon when 
the carriage paused at last at the top of a long 
hill. Bending forward and pointing with his 
whip to the right. Uncle Abram called, 

“Young Mistis, dere is de house. Will vou 
git out an’ go froo de little i’on gate, or shall I 
drive roun’ by de big gate ?” 

“Take the route through the big gate, by 
all means. Uncle Abram,” the girl smilingly 
called out from the carriage window. Then 
turning her eyes upon the commodious resi- 
dence, which crowned a rolling elevation, with 
its wide verandas, a lovely lawn carpeted with 


Adrienne 


77 


velvety green grass, sloping gradually on all 
sides, evidencing the best care of well-trained 
servants, she fell to speculating on the coming 
meeting with Mrs. Willesly. But there was no 
want of welcome in her reception by her 
hostess, who met her with much cordiality. As 
she was conducted by Mrs. Willesly herself up 
the broad staircase, on into a richly furnished 
bed-room, with books, flowers, and pictures 
scattered round, indeed everything to make a 
young girl happy, she had not failed to note the 
refinement and elegance that characterized on 
all sides this lovely home. 

‘‘I am sure, Adrienne,” Mrs. Willesly con- 
tinued, as she assisted the girl to remove her hat 
and gloves, ''that however slow the beginning 
may seem to you, the country having so few 
social advantages, and we do not see life from 
a city standpoint, we nevertheless can be happy 
in our own way, and you may grow into a 
home feeling sooner than you imagine. You 
are goodness itself, my child, in coming to me 
so promptly to cheer my lonely hours. How- 
ever, perhaps I have done wrong to insist, under 
the circumstances, upon having you. Poor 
mother, when I think of her sufferings, I am 
induced to believe this war could have been 
avoided had Jeff Davis been disposed to regard 
the matter from a reasonable point of view.” 


78 


Adrienne 


“That, I am sure, is very doubtful,’’ Adrienne 
answered, with a subtle note of protest in her 
voice. “Let us suppose Mr. Davis is sincere at 
least in the part he has taken in the movement.” 

“Very well, my dear,” she laughed, “at any 
rate, in so early a stage of our acquaintance, be 
it far from me to wish to draw you into a dis- 
cussion on the subject. I do not know your 
father, Adrienne, but I take a very tender, inter- 
est in you, and intend keeping you with me until 
he shall come in person to spirit you away to 
his distant home. But forgive me, child, for I 
know you must be suffering from pangs of 
hunger after your long and tiresome drive. So 
I am now going, intent upon household duties. 
Hurry down, a warm supper will set you up.” 

“I must insist, Mrs. Willesly, that you treat 
me precisely as one of the family, and then I 
shall certainly feel at home.” And closing the 
door Upon Mrs. Willesly’s retreating figure, 
the girl turned to her own melancholy, home- 
sick thoughts. But after a plunge into a cool 
bath she felt deliciously refreshed, and was 
not long making herself ready for the evening 
repast that was to complete the day’s unusual 
experience. 

Glad of a distraction from worries endanger- 
ing her peace of mind, Mrs. Willesly rattled on, 
at the supper table, in a lively strain, hoping to 
draw the girl’s thoughts away from herself. 


Adrienne 


79 


who, in the mean time, had been taking an in- 
ventory of the good points of her charming 
hostess, the entire impression proving most 
pleasing and satisfactory. 

Mrs. Willesly’s two children, Annie and 
Charles, met her with quiet refinement in their 
manner, addressing her as “Cousin Adrienne.” 
She discovered at once they were cultured and 
interesting beyond their years. As the days 
passed by, and the acquaintance progressed, 
Adrienne often found herself invited to a stroll 
in the woods in search of ferns and wild flowers, 
varying the hour by a discussion of their bo- 
tanical relations. Thus, by close association, a 
warm attachment ripened between the children 
and the lovely young guest. 

Mrs. Willesly, declaring she could not think 
of jeopardizing her tender feet by the under- 
taking of such long jaunts, said to Adrienne 
one morning, 

“I should like to have you drive with me, 
Adrienne, taking advantage of the fine weather. 
You must not let your self-imposed duties in- 
terfere with other pleasures. It was kind of you 
to undertake the children, which is a mere pas- 
time for you; but there is no need of making 
a governess of yourself.” 

“Oh,” laughed Adrienne, “I enjoy being with 
the children as friend and companion.” 


80 


Adrienne 


‘Well/’ was the laughing reply, “they must 
have a holiday every day, while I hope you will 
not consider it an irksome task to give me some 
of your time/’ 

“You know I shall be only too delighted to 
go with you whenever you like to have me,” 
was the candid answer. 

So, in the beauty of that very afternoon, as 
they were bowling over lovely country roads, 
beneath the shade of magnificent trees, Mrs. 
Willesly, as she looked down into the girl’s face 
and caught the sparkle of delighted enjoyment 
in the dark eyes, naturally concluded she was 
growing content and happy. But could she have 
known the inner workings of Adrienne’s 
thoughts, her contemplations perhaps would not 
have been so tranquil. For, alas, though rarely 
alluding to her father, the indefinite separation 
from him had begun to color her life with a 
cloud of unutterable despondency. 

In consequence of the rigorous winter that 
now broke over them, shutting them out from 
the world, naturally this little family grew de- 
pendent upon one another for society, and ac- 
cordingly their relations became very pleasant 
and sympathetic. Nevertheless, Adrienne, 
from the dismalness of the long winter even- 
ings, often felt driven to the friendly comfort 
of the library, where, invariably greeted by a 


Adrienne 


81 


cheerful fire, the cosy surroundings contrasting 
with the icy appearance of things outside, she 
was soothed into delightful repose as she sought 
companionship in the pages of an interesting 
story, perfectly congenial with the hour and 
her own inclinations. 

At this juncture only occasional mutter ings 
of war were heard, so they were lulled to quiet 
and rest. The days now flitted by, broken in 
upon alone by the negro plantation song in all 
its quaintness and peculiar cadence, as it came 
from the fields from early morn to the going 
down of the sun. To Adrienne one of the most 
attractive features of country life was sitting at 
the twilight hour and meditating as she looked 
into the darkening shadows and listened to the 
many insects peopling the night. Even when 
alone in her own room, during the stillness of 
the midnight hour, she would listen to the 
breeze sighing through the leaves of the trees 
close by, and through a window beside her bed 
would gaze out into the far-off starry heavens, 
her whole being vibrating in unison with the 
expansiveness and grandeur of the universe; 
but she felt how impenetrable to finite minds 
was the mystery that lay beyond its limitations. 

In the natural order of things the narrow 
routine of this well-regulated family must soon 
give way to the troubles and perils lying in wait 


82 


Adrienne 


in their pathway; for sucldenlv there was a 
startling report that the city of New Orleans 
was not sufficiently guarded against attack. 
The increasing alarm and cry for reinforce- 
ments, though promptly scouted by the officer 
in command, alas proved not an idle sensation, 
and was subsequently confirmed by General 
Butler’s famous entrance into the city, thus 
capturing the stronghold of the Mississippi 
River. 

The news of the capitulation of New Orleans 
reached Mrs. Willesly simultaneously with that 
of the death of her mother and Charles, Mrs. 
Somers’s death having been caused by the sud- 
den tidings that Charles had fallen in battle. 

Mrs. Willesly was overwhelmed. Throwing 
up her hands she cried out, ''Adrienne, I am 
indeed bereft!” 

The girl was profoundly shocked, but could 
not find words to express the tender sympathy 
she felt in her heart for her sorrow-stricken 
friend. Knowing that time alone would serve 
to soften the keen edge of her crushing grief 
and bring back an interest in life, she was im- 
pressed with the thought that no consolation 
she could ofifer would soothe or heal the smitten 
heart. 

Adrienne, left much of the time to herself, 
began to dwell upon the enigma of life, wonder- 


Adrienne 


83 


ing why it should be so that her heart must be 
filled with a hungry ache, ever baffiing a reach- 
ing out after a happiness that seemed fated to 
elude her grasp. 


CHAPTER XI 


The period of mourning passed during un- 
eventful days. Winter again had been removed 
for the advance of the beauty and freshness of 
spring, and the air was sweet with the fragrance 
of flowers. 

All at once the neighborhood was shaken out 
of its semi-lethargy by the report that a certain 
army division was on its way to the river, and 
would be encamped three miles below Mrs. 
Willesly’s residence. The old fort was to be 
put in shape for battle, and as a matter of fact, 
all things being made ready, were taking on 
quite a serious outlook, while the very air was 
permeated with ominous warnings. 

Delighted at the prospect of a relief from the 
uninterrupted solitude of her every-day life, in 
which for so long past there had been no room 
for any emotion in her heart save sorrow — 
noiseless footsteps, muffled voices, as it were, 
having been the order of the house — Mrs. 
Willesly entered into a pleasurable expectation. 
Adrienne cheerfully welcomed the change, the 
quiet of the house having become so exceedingly 
distasteful to her, she had begun to find the 


Adrienne 


85 


burden of time quite too depressing to her 
youthful spirits. 

Shortly after, Mrs. Willesly and Adrienne 
were sitting talking over a late breakfast, when 
Ferriby, the little black house-maid, suddenly 
appeared before them, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Miss Helen,” she said, much excited, “a 
sojer stopped me in de hall jes’ now, an’ say he 
would like to see you one minit.” 

At once rising from her chair, with the light 
of interest and curiosity in her face, Mrs. Wil- 
lesly quitted the room. Being left alone, 
Adrienne rose also, but passed out on the ver- 
anda, and stood looking straight before her over 
level spreading fields to the luxuriant woodland 
beyond now all bathed in the sparkling morning- 
sunshine, reflecting sadly over the fact that 
soon all this beauty and harmony in nature must 
feel the presence of an invading foe. “Oh, 
why,” she thought, “since we are contented 
with our ploughing, sowing, and reaping, must 
our quiet fields be troubled by the rumble and 
devastation of war?” A sigh passed her lips 
as she bent forward, held by the charm of every- 
thing so near. But this moment Mrs. Willesly 
reappeared. Her eyes were lighted up with a 
look of eager pleasure as she said with a laugh, 
and a playful flutter in her manner, 

“Well, Adrienne, I have come to report that 
the ‘sojer’ waiting to see me was no other than 


86 


Adrienne 


the general in command of this division, a few 
hours in advance of his army, to make business 
arrangements. And do you know he asked of 
me the privilege of making my residence his 
headquarters. Besides he is anxious to board 
with me. He has a wife, one small child, and 
there is a maid to accommodate. Of course I 
deliberated on the matter, but finally agreed, 
knowing this addition to our family circle 
would greatly enliven the times and be an agree- 
able change from our usual humdrum existence. 
He can have the use of the suite of rooms 
adjoining the parlors. For, Adrienne, though 
you have been as sweet as can be about it, I 
know your life all these months has been as 
suppressed as possible.” 

‘‘But, Mrs. Willesly, I would not have your 
decision influenced by a thought of me” 
pleaded Adrienne. “You must remember, to 
entertain an officer of this rank will mean an 
entire revolution in your usual domestic 
routine.” 

“Oh, well,” she answered, a little impatiently, 
“the die is cast, and I am willing to abide by it.” 
Adrienne turned slowly away, regretting her 
protest. 

Late in the afternoon a large army ambu- 
lance rolled in upon Mrs. Willesly’s smooth 
lawn. General Borden’s family and effects 
promptly disgorged, were soon comfortably 


Adrienne 


87 


lodged in their spacious, elegant apartments. 
But ere the bustle of the arrival had subsided, 
Adrienne had slipped away to her room, content 
to throw herself into the arms of a capacious 
chair and give herself up to a line of thought — 
dwelling upon the past, upon Mr. Strafford, 
who stood out clearly upon her mental canvas 
ploughing the Atlantic with his yacht at some 
distant point. Her brief acquaintance with 
him, his many kind courtesies, even the music 
of the waltz she had danced with him, came 
drifting over her. But all at once she paled sud- 
denly as the same unreasoning thought of his 
attachment for Miss Conrad caused a darting 
pain through her heart. Distress and pride 
strove in her mind, and courageously rising 
from her chair, as it were, she put it at arm’s 
length, and set to work preparing to meet more 
cheerful company than her own somber reflec- 
tions. 

An hour later. General Borden and his wife 
were presented to Miss de Courcelles at the sup- 
per table, and were so extraordinarily impressed 
by the ideal beauty of her face, and indefinable 
grace of manner, for an instant seemed scarcely 
able to take their eyes away from her. 

“I don’t wish to be meddlesome, Adrienne,” 
Mrs. Willesly laughingly accosted the girl as 
she was taking her seat at the table, ‘‘but I have 
wondered where you were keeping yourself all 


88 


Adrienne 


the afternoon, and naturally concluded you 
were on one of your favored rambles with the 
children/’ 

The girl glanced with a sunny flash in her 
eyes at Mrs. Willesly, but her reply came in 
demure tones. 

“You force the reluctant confession from me 
that I have spent the entire afternoon in my 
own room absorbed in the pleasant occupation 
of reading and meditating.” 

“Then,” laughed Mrs. Willesly, teasingly, “I 
grow suspicious, and more curious every mo- 
ment as to what the end will be. For is it not 
so that you were so delighted with the ‘blue 
stocking’ we happened to hear air her senti- 
ments the other evening on ‘woman suffrage,’ 
‘temperance,’ and such like, that you are pre- 
paring an exegesis on the subject that will im- 
mortalize your name in the pages of some liter- 
ary or scientific magazine ?” 

“Pardon me,” said the General, looking 
across the table at Adrienne, with a humorous 
twinkle in his eyes, “but I am sure Miss de 
Courcelles would never impress one as belong- 
ing to that particular class of individuals who 
travel and lecture, or even write, on woman’s 
suffrage.” 

Adrienne opened her beautiful eyes brightlv, 
as with a graceful bend of her figure toward the 
General she laughingly accepted the challenge. 


Adrienne 


89 


“I have heard it said, General, there is phil- 
osophy in meditating, and if thereby one should 
discover accidentally that a certain talent lay 
dormant in one’s brain, would it be right, be- 
cause it should not be the usual occupation of 
woman, to condemn it to extinction ? But,” with 
a lovely smile and a little ripple of laughter, “as 
I do not feel disposed to trespass upon the lim- 
its of my proper sphere, there is no danger of 
my ever treading so mistaken a path.” 

“I am sure,” said the General, “lectures from 
the stump only exhaust effort, without bring- 
ing about the desired result. No good, as a 
rule, is accomplished by dictating morals to 
those who have been hardened by the touch of 
time.” 

“Really,” ventured Mrs. Willesly, repressing 
an arch smile, “I feel that it is too bad that we 
should intrude our wants upon so grave a dis- 
cussion ; but may I trouble you. General, to help 
me to a piece of the broiled chicken ?” 

The General laughed, and as Mrs. Borden 
had made inquiries in regard to the surrounding 
country and people the conversation turned 
upon another topic. 

The dignity and sweetness of Mrs. Borden 
at once won Adrienne’s admiration, readily 
recognizing the pleasure that would be hers 
during their close association in the same house 
perhaps for weeks to come. 


90 


Adrienne 


But Rosine, drawing Ferriby aside, questioned 
her privately as to who the lovely Miss de 
Courcelles could be, and exclaimed volubly over 
her beauty. Whereupon the little darky, being 
over- fond of the marvelous, proceeded to ex- 
aggerate glibly. 

“Miss Adr’en is from furrin parts. I heered 
Miss Helen say that Miss Adr’en wuz a 
princess ’mong dem folkes in Egypt where 
her father lives.’’ 

“A princess, did you say ?” repeated Rosine. 
“Well, anyway, she don’t look like an Ameri- 
can, I am sure.” 

But suddenly Ferriby, with a comical grimace, 
shambled round the corner of the house, leaving 
Rosine to cogitate at her leisure over this piece 
of ready invention on her part. 

The unconscious object of this little discus- 
sion was this moment seated between the two 
children in the pony cart, which was now seen 
from the house crawling up the broad white 
road flooded with the brilliant afternoon sun- 
shine. But as it disappeared across the top of 
the hill, two staff officers, coming from the op- 
posite direction, dashed up to the gate and dis- 
mounted. Crossing the lawn to the house they 
were met by Mrs. Borden at the front door, who 
cordially invited them to have seats. Lieut. 
Belden accepted, while Major Herndon, who 
had private business with the General, retired 


Adrienne 


91 


to his rooms, leaving the Lieutenant to a cosy 
chat with his General’s wife, whom he had 
known, being from the same city, from his boy- 
hood. 

Lieut. Belden had a refined and pleasing per- 
sonality, and his thin, well-bred face lighted up 
with interest and curiosity as he turned to Mrs. 
Borden and remarked, 

“You seem delightfully situated here, Mrs. 
Borden.” 

“Yes,” with an aflFable smile, “I often con- 
trast the present surroundings with the primi- 
tive accommodations I had prepared myself to 
see, and have lost no time in mentally apologiz- 
ing for my presumption, while, I assure you, I 
am enjoying it all immensely, with the addition 
of an abundance of wholesome country air. 
And I must not forget to mention that the Gen- 
eral, even, has fallen a victim to the very excel- 
lent country fare.” 

“Which confirms the truth of the old saying,” 
laughed the Lieutenant, “that the surest road 
to a man’s heart is through an elaborate, well- 
cooked dinner.” 

“Now I am sure you are distorting the old 
saying, as well as my meaning,” she answered, 
with an indulgent smile. Whereupon the 
Lieutenant made a courteous gesture of 
apology, and laughingly said. 


92 


Adrienne 


crave your pardon, and will change the 
subject by modestly inquiring whether or not 
any attractive young ladies are living in the 
neighborhood T’ 

“I have a pleasant surprise for you,'' prompt- 
ly answered Mrs. Borden. ‘‘A young lady is 
stopping at this house at present, who, but for 
the impediment of the war, long since would 
have been spirited away to the land of the 
Caliphs. While, to add to the mystery and 
charm of things, Rosine, my maid, has been 
told some absurd story — originating with the 
servants of course — that this young lady is a 
princess in that country in which is her home." 

The Lieutenant blew a long, low whistle, and 
exclaimed in dramatic tones, 

‘The plot thickens ! A princess in this house? 
When is the royal personage visible?" 

Mrs. Borden laughed as she answered, 

“Not this afternoon, at any rate, as she is 
out driving. But, Lieutenant, I must explain 
that the young lady in question really is the 
daughter of a retired capitalist who is forced to 
live in the far East on account of broken health. 
Mrs. Willesly, our hostess, informs me she was 
the ward of her mother. The girl has been 
educated in the United States, and is now wait- 
ing a suitable opportunity to join her father at 
his distant home, which is his permanent resi- 
dence." 


Adrienne 


93 


“ 'All that a man hath will he give for his 
life/ quoted the Lieutenant, with a laugh. 
"But to me it seems the acme of selfishness that 
a father should consign his young daughter to 
a life of sacrifice among semi-barbarians in 
order that he may live out the residue of his 
allotted days.'' 

However, it must here be said that from this 
moment Lieutenant Belden began to show an 
increasing interest in life and things about him, 
and to rally from the effects of a prolonged 
attack of homesickness, under which distressing 
malady he had been laboring lately, with scarce- 
ly any hope of relief. 

An hour later the two officers were riding 
leisurely along toward camp, when suddenly 
they were confronted in the road by a small 
vehicle, seemingly weighted down with its bur- 
den of wild dog-wood blossoms. In the midst 
of these floral decorations, crowded together on 
a single seat, were two children and a lovely 
young girl. They were laughing merrily, in 
the gayest holiday spirits, as they whirled by, 
bestowing upon the two officers, as they passed, 
an amused look of curiosity. 

"By Jove!" exclaimed Lieutenant Belden, 
quickly wheeling his horse directly across the 
road, as, struck by a sudden revelation, he 
looked eagerly after the flower-bedecked vehicle. 
"The Eastern princess, and no mistake !" And 


94 


Adrienne 


his eyes, now lighting up with a gleam of pleas- 
ure, he gave way to a low amused laugh. How 
it happened, he never knew, but something 
woke in his soul that suddenly banished all feel- 
ing of melancholy. The sun seemed to shine 
with more exhilarating brilliance, the fresh 
green of the trees under which he was riding 
seemed to emit a sweeter fragrance. The fol- 
lowing morning, his duty leading him to head- 
quarters, he considered himself fortunate in- 
deed, as he came face to face with the object 
of his thoughts, in company with Mrs. Borden, 
who, taking advantage of the opportunity, at 
once introduced him with a gracious smile. As 
he bowed low before the beautiful girl, mingled 
emotions of admiration and adoration swelling 
in his heart, causing a rush of colors over his 
face, the thought was uppermost in his mind, 
'‘Herndon is right, she is indeed an exquisite 
oriental lily, as dainty and sweet as she is be- 
wilderingly lovely.” 

But the girl, with a slight bend of the head 
and a glance from her lovely eyes, continued 
on her way down the hall, leaving Mrs. Borden 
engaged in conversation with the Lieutenant, 
whose desire for a social chat suddenly evapo- 
rated with Adrienne’s disappearance through the 
end door, when immediately contriving some 
plausible excuse, he retired to the General’s 
apartments, whom he found seated at a table 


Adrienne 


95 


profoundly engaged in examining a roll of 
papers. But raising his head as the Lieutenant 
entered, and pointing to a chair, he smilingly 
asked, 

“You desire to see me, Belden?” 

“I do, but I will wait until you are at leisure.” 

After a while the General began to fold the 
document upon which he had been so assidu- 
ously engaged, and throwing it upon the table, 
turned quite around, facing Lieutenant Belden, 
and said reflectively, 

“There is no doubt, Belden, that our inertia 
of the past few weeks will be broken by the 
grave engagement now confronting us at a very 
early day. I am positive General Grant, to 
avoid the necessity of a siege, intends dropping 
down to this point, and by cooperating with 
the Union forces above, will endeavor to cap- 
ture Vicksburg by assault. We must make our 
resistance effective from any point of attack 
by the enemy.” 

But there being no ready response to this, the 
General, throwing a keen, penetrating glance 
upon the Lieutenant, to find that he had been 
listening but impassively, after a slight pause 
blurted out, 

“It seems to me, Belden, you are showing a 
great degree of indifference toward a very vital 
question !” 


96 


Adrienne 


‘Tardon me, General,” now straightening 
himself and suddenly alert, as he slowly passed 
his hand across his brow. “My apparent in- 
attention is indeed reprehensible. But I be- 
lieve I am not feeling well this morning, and 
have decided premonitions of an illness.” 

“An illness at this stage of affairs,” said the 
General, suppressing his irate feelings, “would 
be unfortunate. I would advise you to prompt- 
ly consult a doctor ; and, as you are not feeling 
well, I will excuse you, hoping you may be able 
to bring a better report to-morrow.” 

The General walked deliberately back to the 
table and resumed his occupation, while the 
Lieutenant quietly rose, feeling dismissed, and 
retired from the room. 

In the mean time, as the days passed rapidly 
over, it had occurred to Lieutenant Belden as 
something strange, that during his coming and 
going to and from headquarters he had not been 
fortunate enough to meet Miss de Courcelles, 
and thinking it was perhaps an intentional 
avoidance, he rode away from the house each 
day disappointed and chagrined, and by a 
swift, sweeping gallop the longest way round 
to camp, tried to exorcise the demon of unrest 
that persistently assailed his dissatisfied soul. 

The state of his sentiments being transmitted 
in some marvelous way to Mrs. Borden, called 
forth all the womanly sympathy of which her 


Adrienne 


97 


generous nature was capable. So it happened 
as they were returning one morning from a 
delightful drive and the carriap-e was passing 
over the crest of a hill overlooking the expan- 
sive Mississippi River, while Adrienne was lean- 
ing forward with inexpressible yearning on her 
features, reminded, by the familiar sight of the 
water sparkling through the branches of trees, 
of a brief, happy period in her young life, bring- 
ing with it tender memories she would fain for- 
get, suddenly Mrs. Borden’s gentle, refined 
voice called her back to her present self. 

“It seems, Adrienne, that we have been 
drawn together by an affectionate bond of sym- 
pathy, notwithstanding our brief acquaintance, 
while so warm an attachment has sprung up in 
my heart for you, that I find myself even indulg- 
ing: the hope that one of my soldiers may fall 
into the good fortune of persuading you to re- 
main with us, so that I may not have the fear of 
losing you entirely out of my life.” But as she 
watched the effect of her words on the girl she 
saw no blush in her cheek, nor was there any 
emotion visible, nor the least tremor in the voice 
that answered promptly, 

“I assure you, Mrs. Borden, so flattering an 
expression of rep'ard from you is sufficiently 
gratifying, without any allusion to a happiness 
which, for me, is far in the future.” 


98 


Adrienne 


‘'Ah/' Mrs. Borden sighed inwardly, “what 
a mystery it seems that a young girl can resist 
a young man of Lieutenant Belden's fascina- 
tion and strong individuality." But prudently 
deciding to let matters drop for the present, she 
persuaded herself that time yet would have its 
perfect work in the accomplishment of her 
desire. 


CHAPTER XII 


Congeniality, the ingredient promotive of 
pleasant relations, existed in the hearts of this 
little home circle, a chord of sympathy that 
secured, as it were, the charm of a family union 
in its domestic completeness. 

The afternoon being too lovely to linger in- 
doors, Adrienne, armed with the latest popular 
magazines, came downstairs with the intention 
of treating herself to an hour’s undisturbed rest 
and enjoyment. Moving swiftly and lightly 
across the lawn, she bent her steps to a ro- 
mantic-looking spot, where rustic seats were 
scattered round beneath the wide spreading 
shade of a magnificent water-oak. She seated 
herself and prepared to clip the pages, when 
the click of spurs coming near caught her ear. 
Rising to her feet, she turned and faced Lieu- 
tenant Belden, in company with another officer, 
whom he introduced as Colonel Waite, com- 
mander at the fort. Both officers bowed low 
before the girl, who received them with her 
usual ease and grace of manner, asking them 
to have seats, which they smilingly accepted, 
proceeding at once to make themselves agree- 
able. And truly, by the note of gladness trem- 

LOFC. 


100 


Adrienne 


bling in his voice, the Lieutenant had received 
an impetus to merriment, as he now chatted 
away, by no means limited in his powers to 
entertain. Colonel Waite, on the other hand, 
who was reserved by nature, sat observing at 
his leisure the charming picture Adrienne made 
as she talked freely with the Lieutenant, mak- 
ing little animated gestures, and thought how 
dainty she looked. But this moment Mrs. 
Borden and Mrs. Willesly appeared, coming 
up and joining them, and after formal intro- 
ductions they were soon seated in a circle, 
laughing and chatting in lively argument. 
Colonel Waite sat watching the sunlight and 
listened to the breeze making a gentle ripple 
among the leaves, and presently turning to 
Adrienne, near whom he sat, he said, with 
marked deference in his manner, 

“I find it charming here. Miss de Courcelles, 
as I look upon this, one of the old-fashioned 
Southern homes of which one hears so much, 
and that so singularly represents the tastes of 
the people. Though I am enrolled in the South- 
ern army, I live rather North than South. But 
since war has become the pursuit of my life, 
being a devout worshiper of nature, I have at 
least enjoyed the grand, picturesque scenery 
through which it has been my pleasure to pass 
on our extended marches. I have been im- 
pressed with the thought that a home some- 


Adrienne 


101 


where in the midst of these limitless Southern 
forests would become the ‘garden spot of the 
world’ to me.” 

“You would risk a great deal to find your- 
self mistaken, perhaps,” was the smiling reply. 
“I am sure the exchange of gaslit streets and 
the clatter and rush of the city for an isolated 
life on a dreary waste, would inevitably result 
in a deplorable state of melancholy and disap- 
pointment. Though it is true, and the fact has 
been demonstrated, that it is possible to become 
accustomed to any state in life.” 

“If the question is not too personal, Miss de 
Courcelles, may I ask if you are speaking from 
personal experience?” 

She laughed, but answered promptly, 

“I must acknowledge. Colonel Waite, that 
at first, when I came here, I was at a loss to 
know what to do with my time, but gradually 
falling into the silent paths of beautiful nature, 
I no longer crave the rush, tinsel, and parade of 
society. In fact,” now smiling upon him beam- 
ingly, “I am wholly in sympathy with your 
partiality for the country, and feel that here in 
this quiet spot I have well renounced the world 
and its vanities.” 

As Adrienne looked into Colonel Waite’s 
dark, intellectual eyes, and observed the dig- 
nity and gravity of his face, she was impressed 
with the certainty that he was a true gentle- 


102 


Adrienne 


man, a brave soldier — one who would repudiate 
in letter or spirit the word ‘‘failure.’’ 

The lull in the conversation of those around 
them called their attention, and turning at once, 
they discovered all eyes were bent upon a tall, 
distinguished-looking man in uniform now 
passing through the gate, who looked about 
him, and seeing the group under the trees, came 
forward, lifting his hat as he addressed them. 

“Pardon me, but may I ask if these are Gen- 
eral Borden’s headquarters?” 

Doubting the evidence of her own senses, 
Adrienne had struggled to her feet, her brain 
in a whirl, a deadly white spreading over her 
face. But as the stranger’s eyes, in passing over 
the group, fastened upon her with visible aston- 
ishment, she now stood before him, flushed and 
loyely, while he quickly crossed over to her 
side, taking her hand in his as he said, in the 
high-bred tones she remembered so well, 

, “It is true the unexpected is sure to happen. 
I cannot recover from my surprise. Miss de 
Courcelles, at seeing you so far from home.” 

She looked up with a sudden flash in her 
eyes. “My surprise at seeing you, Mr. Strafford, 
when I had imagined you far away pursuing the 
even tenor of your travels on the other side of 
the Atlantic, is altogether equal to your own.” 

“While I trust, seeing me in the Confederate 
uniform will not expose me to your ridicule, 


Adrienne 


103 


that I have dared enlist where my duty is not 
comprised, thus perhaps lowering my stand- 
ard of courage in your eyes. But, as my time 
is limited, may I ask the pleasure of seeing you 
before I leave this evening?’^ 

Adrienne gave a ready, smiling assent, the 
contact of his glance and subtle fascination of 
his presence filling her soul with an inexpres- 
sible, tumultuous joy, though she managed to 
answer with composure, 

“I shall be delighted, Mr. Strafford. But 
now allow me to introduce you to my friends.” 

In the mean time, the two officers had dis- 
covered Mr. Strafford ranked as colonel. Mrs. 
Borden, immediately after the introduction, 
addressed him. 

“I believe. Colonel Strafford, you asked to see 
General Borden ^ I will take you to his rooms 
with pleasure.” He bowed, then lifting his hat 
to the remaining company, turned at once and 
followed his gracious, smiling guide into the 
house. 

The unexpected appearance of this officer 
upon the scene, on a private mission to their 
General, caused frequent passages of significant 
glances between the Colonel and Lieutenant. 
Unable to resist the promptings of curiosity 
they even ventured cautious inquiry of 
Adrienne as to how and when she had made 
Colonel Strafford’s acquaintance. 


104 


Adrienne 


“For,” said Colonel Waite, “I am sure he is 
an Englishman, who has not long been away 
from his native soil.” 

“Yes,” she answered briefly, “he is English. 
I was under the impression that he had re- 
turned to England. When I first met him in 
New Orleans he was in the midst of a pleasure 
cruise. His yacht was anchored in port quite 
awhile.” 

“To get all the pleasure one can out of liv- 
ing seems to be the standard of life of the Eng- 
lish,” said Colonel Waite, laconically. 

“Is the American standard any more praise- 
worthy, Colonel ?” laughed the Lieutenant. 
“Leaving* pleasure altogether out of the ques- 
tion, I am sure that we are striving only to get 
all the money we can out of living, thus 
squandering our God-given talents in the in- 
dulgence of so gross a mercenary spirit that 
nothing short of another deluge can purify us.” 

“Yes,” said Colonel Waite, carefully, “we 
on this side of the world are in much too great 
a hurry, getting beyond the idea of making 
things better by growing out of the sordid, up 
to a higher plane of existence.” 

Unconscious of the close scrutiny he had 
given the meeting between Colonel Strafford 
and Miss de Courcelles, Lieutenant Belden was 
satisfied that no affair-de-coeur existed between 
them, consequently his normal spirits were soon 


Adrienne 


105 


in full play. But presently, compelled to obey 
the behest of duty, he turned a reluctant face 
toward camp. As they walked side by side 
across the smooth grassy lawn to where their 
horses were standing, Colonel Waite remarked, 
with a preoccupied air, 

‘‘I suppose the advent of this officer, perhaps 
on a secret mission to the Trans-Mississippi 
Department, portends an early rain of shot and 
shell. Though it is merely surmise on my part.’’ 

‘‘All right. Colonel, let them come. We will 
meet them at Philippi,” the Lieutenant sang 
out as they rode away. 

The measure of curiosity and interest mani- 
fested by Mrs. Willesly toward Col. Strafford 
was a sure proof of the marked impression he 
had made upon her. 

“Rest assured, Adrienne, there is mystery 
in this procedure, that a foreigner of his caste 
should generously offer to spill his blood for 
an alien country bears absurdity on the face of 
it.” But suddenly she perceived her remarks 
had been addressed to empty space ; for the girl 
had flown like the wind up the stairway, where 
she entered the privacy of her own room, 
throwing herself into a chair, as she clasped her 
hands before her eyes and exclaimed aloud, 
“Surely this is not the vagary of an unsound 
mind, or something great has happened to me 
this day, the most eventful of my life ! But, oh ! 


106 


Adrienne 


I hope indeed that I did not betray the joy I felt 
in my heart at seeing him so unexpectedly/' 
She stopped short, her cheeks glowing, her 
voice tremulous and broken, when, like an elec- 
tric shock, the thought of Miss Conrad being 
the cause of Colonel Strafford remaining in the 
South flashed through her brain, causing her to 
draw her mantle of pride closely round her. 
Thus shrouding her heart in a cloud of impen- 
etrable reserve, with sublime self-control she 
managed to compose her thoughts into some 
degree of calmness. However, at this moment 
a stir at the door drew her facing the grinning 
Ferriby. 

‘‘Miss Adr’en,” she giggled, “a splendiferous 
lookin' ossifer down-stairs say he’d like to see 
you 'fo' he goes." 

“What a little idiot you are, Ferriby. I am 
sure your weakness for using big words is as 
absurd as your worship of gold lace and cavalry 
spurs is sublime." 

“Yes'm,” she answered in good faith, with 
suppressed giggles. 

But a conflict of emotion was stirring in the 
girl’s heart as she descended the dimly lighted 
staircase to find Colonel Strafford waiting at 
the foot. He took her hand, at the same time 
glancing over her face and figure with a thrill 
of delight as he led her to a seat close by. 
Though, instead of the happy light he had ex- 


Adrienne 


107 


pected to see in her eyes, he was conscious of 
the look of pain and touch of cold that flitted 
over her face (for she had struggled to meet 
him as circumstances demanded), and as he 
looked down upon her lovely features, puzzled 
to account for the subtle change in her manner, 
he refrained from telling her of his love, think- 
ing at another time perhaps fate would smile 
more benignly upon his efforts. So, with an 
air of firmness, his usual high-bred tones in no 
way betraying the actual disquiet of his mind, 
he said, 

"‘I have been finding it difficult indeed. Miss 
de Courcelles, to realize that we have met again, 
which has brought so vividly before me my de- 
lightful sojourn in the fascinating Crescent 
City.’’ 

‘‘Ah, I remember it all so well,” she answered 
dreamily. “But that I should see you now 
wearing the Confederate uniform is infinitely 
surprising to me.” 

“Your surprise is not by any means equal to 
my own. Miss de Courcelles. I suppose my 
attachment for the Southerners, knowing I 
could lend my feeble aid in no other way save 
by joining the ranks in their defense, must have 
largely influenced me to drift, so to speak, into 
the army. Besides, I will confess that I was re- 
luctant to return to England and face the same 
monotonous routine.” 


108 


Adrienne 


''But, Colonel Strafford,’' she replied, with a 
faintly ironical smile in her eyes, "are not you 
running counter to your national convictions by 
indulging so democratic a spirit? It doubtless 
will unfit you thoroughly for living again under 
the unchangeable methods of Great Britain.” 

He laughed a low, musical laugh, but as 
there was no immediate response, looking up, 
Adrienne observed that his eyes were bent upon 
her mourning garb with a deep look of con- 
cern. 

"Pardon me, but may I ask if you have met 
with the loss of a dear relative or friend?” 

"Then you had not heard of Mrs. Somers’s 
death, nor that Charles had fallen in battle?” 

"I regret most sincerely to hear of it,” was 
the answer, in grave tones. "This accounts for 
your being here. Miss de Courcelles.” 

"Yes,” she said briefly, "Mrs. Willesly is the 
daughter of my guardian.” 

"As I have only a moment at my disposal, 
having already drawn on my limited time, I 
wish to suggest. Miss de Courcelles, that in 
view of an engagement, which is now hourly 
expected, it being reasonable to suppose the con- 
flict will fall on this ground, that it is expedient 
you should withdraw from certain danger. 
Have you not acquaintances remote from this, 
with whom you can take refuge until it shall be 
safe for you to return?” 


Adrienne 


109 


The girl was infinitely touched by the anxiety 
in his voice, nevertheless, with an instinct at 
self-preservation, — she raised her eyes to his 
as she hardened her heart to answer only in or- 
dinary tones — 

‘‘Really, Colonel Strafford, I don’t wish to be 
ungracious, and will assure you of my apprecia- 
tion of your timely warning, but I am under 
Mrs. Willesly’s protection, therefore do not feel 
at liberty to declare my independence by desert- 
ing her in so critical an hour.” 

“My anxiety for your safety must plead my 
excuse for having urged any advice in the mat- 
ter. But, as I must not delay a second longer,” 
rising and taking her hand in his, with that 
grave, subtle earnestness peculiar to him, “I 
must say good-by, with the hope that these evil 
times may soon pass, and that one may think 
of being happy again.” 

He took his hat, and bowed profoundly, then 
strode out into the night, leaving the girl mo- 
tionless, and pale as death, when, suddenly 
breaking into a passion of tears, she cried as one 
only grieves over the body of their cherished 
dead. But presently turning slowly away she 
went up to her room and bathed her face to 
remove the traces of tears. She began to pace 
the room in anxiety, and struggle as she would 
to hide it, the pallor on her face was evident 
even by the dim light on the staircase as she 


110 


Adrienne 


presently wended her way to the parlor. For 
the first time in weeks she now raised the piano, 
thinking to quiet her sad, trembling heart by 
singing a favorite German air; and the next 
moment the exquisite contralto voice, rolling 
out into the room, filled it with thrilling melo- 
dy as it swelled pure and high, and at last 
triumphant, so startling General and Mrs. Bor- 
den that, as the last notes were dying away, the 
singer’s ears were astonished by a burst of 
enthusiasm at her elbow. 

‘Why, child,” exclaimed Mrs. Borden, “you 
are a perpetual surprise. I shall take it a serious 
affront that you have kept us in ignorance of 
your delicious voice.” 

“I appreciate the compliment, coming from 
you, Mrs. Borden,” the girl answered brightly, 
though there was sadness in her eyes. 

“But there is a quality in your voice, Miss 
Adrienne, one seldom has the p-ood fortune to 
hear,” said the General, earnestly. “The ingre- 
dient of which I speak is feeling. You sing as 
though you are under the influence of an inspi- 
ration.” 

Turning her head so that he might not detect 
the color coming and going in her cheeks, 
Adrienne struggled to reply with outward com- 
posure, 

“I feel infinitely flattered, General, at your 
opinion, but will frankly say that I am sure my 


Adrienne 


111 


voice would be regarded with derision by highly 
critical teachers. Nevertheless, I agree with 
you that the most impressive music is that which 
is rendered by inspiration.” 

But that night Adrienne crept softly to bed 
and wept her sad tears in solitude, for the epi- 
sode of the afternoon had returned in full force. 
She thought long over Colonel Strafford’s ex- 
traordinary appearance in their midst. She 
felt, knowing he was a man of intrepid will and 
purpose, that he would undoubtedly accomplish 
his undertaking. Sleep, the sweet restorer, 
utterly forsook her tired eyes, and accordingly, 
with the dawn of a new day, she felt so listless, 
such a want of interest in her surroundings, she 
was not in the humor for the company of others. 
But by drawing heavily upon her dowry of 
patience and self-control she managed to over- 
come in a measure her seriously depressed con- 
dition. It being Sunday, she found many pas- 
sages in her Bible singularly comforting to her 
in her present state of mind. 

Lieutenant Belden, appearing at headquarters 
as usual in the morning, was taken by surprise 
at seeing Adrienne sitting in the hall quietly 
reading. She looked smilingly up into his face 
with the dark magnetic eyes he had found so 
difficult to resist, as she said brightly, 

‘‘So, Lieutenant, this lovely sunshiny day has 
lured you away from the fascinations of camp 


112 


Adrienne 


life. I have just been thinking that, notwith- 
standing my fondness and admiration of the 
country, I should object seriously to living per- 
manently upon a remote river plantation, where 
one’s movements are so restricted, so entirely 
dependent upon, so to speak, ‘time and tide.’ ” 

“It is but natural to sigh for a change,” said 
Lieutenant Belden. “Our poor human nature 
continually reaches out after something beyond 
the treadmill of dull routine.” 

“While,” she added, laughing, “that one 
must live eight miles from church privileges 
would necessarily cause one to grow akin to 
heathens.” 

“It is a deplorable fact that even in this 
Christian enlightenment there is a tendency to 
retrograde, held in check alone by keeping in 
touch with the ways of Truth. I too was think- 
ing, on my way to headquarters this morning, 
this serene and lovely day, with an atmosphere 
of peace and restfulness enveloping the world, 
is portentous in its silence along our lines, which 
doubtless is but the ‘calm before the storm.’ 
There is no use in crossing the bridge, however, 
until we get to it.” Now taking up the Bible 
she had placed face downward beside her, and 
turning to the front leaf upon which her name 
was beautifully inscribed in gilt letters, he said, 
“your name is French, of course.” 


Adrienne 


113 


^^Oh, yes, I am both Spanish and French, on 
my father’s side.” 

“Then, are you a Catholic?” 

But before she could answer he proceeded to 
read one of the Psalms, his voice, vibrating 
under the sentiment of the verses, so charming 
her, that chancing this moment to look into her 
face flushed a rosy red, his heart beat quickly to 
the eager hope that a great happiness was in 
store for him in the near future. 

At this point the sound of wheels drew both 
their eyes in the direction of the drive. Adrienne 
rose at once, and looked out in time to see a 
young lady enter the walk, coming briskly 
toward the house. 

“A visitor,” she cried, “and surely it is 
Kittie !” 

“Oh, Adrienne,” Kittie exclaimed, her face 
beaming with delighted smiles as she threw her 
arms round her dear friend in the old affection- 
ate way, “can it be I have found you at last? 
And just to think, it was by the merest chance 
I heard you were so near me.” 

“I had not even dreamed of such a thing, 
Kittie.” 

“I am sure of it, as nothing could have kept 
us apart so long. But you cannot imagine the 
task I have had persuading father to consent 
to my hunting you up. Those raids, you know, 
that are now becoming so frequent and disas- 


114 


Adrienne 


trous, are his terror by day and by night. And 
it does seem sad indeed, that our soldiers, so 
brave, so true, and determined to fight to the 
bitter end, will be utterly unable to shield our 
country from the final blow. It stands to reason 
our pitiful odds cannot hold out forever against 
the whole world.'' 

^‘Ah, Kittie, our generals are of undaunted 
courage, whose perseverance and strategy will 
yet accomplish a grand victory, weak though in 
numbers we may be. But, tell me how far you 
live from this." 

“Eighteen long miles. And when I confess 
tO' you that I have been traveling since early 
dawn over the smoothest of roads, you can 
imagine what a jaunt it is. While I am under a 
solemn promise to father not to prolong my 
visit over two hours, which will barely give me 
time to reach home before total darkness shall 
overtake me." 

Meantime, Kittie had acknowledged the in- 
troduction to Lieutenant Belden, by a bright, 
careless nod, when, the next moment, turning 
to Adrienne, she asked, 

“But how came you here, Adrienne ?" 

“Surely, you know Mrs. Willesly is the 
daughter of my guardian?" 

“Surely, I did not. But I have not forgot- 
ten how cruelly your guardian tore you from 


Adrienne 


115 


us at school, not so much as consulting your 
wish in the matter, which I resent to this day/^ 

“Are you allowing your prejudice to follow 
its object into the grave, Kittie?” said Adrienne 
in mild rebuke. 

“Since we have been brought together again, 
I am all right now — disposed to be at peace with 
the world, living or dead.” 

Kittie's downright sayings secretly amused 
Lieutenant Belden, who sat near, with his eyes 
bent upon the pages of a newspaper. 

“But, Kittie,” was Adrienne’s next question, 
by way of changing the subject, “tell me what 
you have done with your brave resolutions to 
serve your country? Your avowed intention 
in that direction on one occasion at school now 
looms up before me from the dim shadows of 
the past.” 

Kittie laughed serenely. “I am sure you 
would not have been disappointed if I could 
have made up my mind to defy custom. The 
fact is,” the sense of the ridiculous now spring- 
ing into life in her eyes, “after grave considera- 
tion, my dear, I decided we were too many 
centuries removed from Joan of Arc, who 
‘buckled on her armor, mounted her charger, 
and made the world ring with her deeds of 
prowess,’ to attempt to imitate a career so bril- 
liant.” 

“Which means, Kittie?” 


116 


Adrienne 


“That I have exercised a woman’s privilege 
to change my mind. My ambition for notoriety 
in that direction has been gradually oozing 
through the sieve of intervening days, while, 
of late, I have been entertained watching the 
maneuvers of our famous ‘parlor’ scouts, who, 
instead of accomplishing brave exploits on be- 
half of their country, employ their idle mo- 
ments ‘storming the maiden’s castle,’ and amus- 
ing themselves as devotees to their enticing 
charms, unable to tear themselves away, even 
at the behest of duty. I am positive such 
knight-errantry has had no parallel since the 
middle ages.” 

“I see, Kittie,” laughed Adrienne, “you are 
as incorrigible as ever. Time, the dreaded 
conqueror of all, will have no effect in sober- 
ing you, I am afraid.” 

But Kittie undutifully remained three hours, 
and was so continually bubbling over with fun 
that the music of her merry laugh touched the 
heart of every member of the household, all of 
whom had duly presented themselves to make 
her acquaintance. 

Finally, though, as the time was up, Kittie 
exacted a solemn promise from Adrienne that 
she would visit her without fail during the fol- 
lowing week, then unwillinely turned her face 
toward home, carrying with her the remem- 
brance of a short, bright, happy visit. 


Adrienne 


117 


“I like your friend, Adrienne. She is so full 
of life and animation, ’’ said Mrs. Borden as 
they lingered on the veranda watching the car- 
riage as it slowly wound its way over the brow 
of the hill. 

“Yes,’’ answered Adrienne, now returning 
Kittie’s last wave of her handkerchief from the 
carriage window, “hers is a merry spirit, and 
though often ridiculous, she is the same de- 
lightful Kittie. She has a sweet, genuine 
nature, but is frequently flippant, even given 
to nonsense.” 

“Pardon me. Miss de Courcelles,” said 
Lieutenant Belden, who had this moment 
joined them, “Miss McVea is original, out of 
the usual, and very charming. She is quite a 
character study.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


The morning was deliciously cool, and bril- 
liant with sunlight, which, with a glow on her 
beautiful face, Adrienne seemed to enjoy as 
she lingered beside the little front gate, care- 
lessly leaning against the post. As the fresh 
morning breeze gently ruffled the soft fluffy 
locks of her dusky hair, and fanned into ripples 
the folds of her thin summer dress, she uncon- 
sciously indulged a reverie. But the next mo- 
ment she was roused by the sudden crack of a 
whip. Raising her head, she saw Uncle Abram, 
seated high in a wagon, coming forward. He 
pulled up opposite her, calling out in a cheer- 
ful morning salutation, 

'‘Glad to see you lookin’ so peart-like, dis 
fine mornin’, young Mistis.” 

"Thanks, Uncle Abram, I am always well, 
and it is so lovely this morning. But where 
are you off to even before the breakfast hour?” 

"Coin’ arter rashuns, young Mistis. ’Ka’se 
dere is no tellin’, dese onsartin times, what 
mout happen ’fo’ de day closes; an’ I like to 
prepare again’ onexpected trouble.” 

Replacing his hat upon his white wooly head, 
with a flourish of his whip. Uncle Abram con- 


Adrienne 


119 


tinned on his way, shouting in resonant voice 
the old camp meeting chorus, “I am bound for 
the promised land,’^ the girl standing and listen- 
ing until the last reverberating note had died 
away in the distance. 

It was the evening of the same day. 
Adrienne was alone on the veranda, pacing to 
and fro in the stillness of the night. The moon 
had risen clear and silvery, reflecting the 
branches of the trees across the white columns 
of the house. Suddenly she paused as the mur- 
mur of voices caught her ear (for in conse- 
quence of Uncle Abram’s failure to reach 
home at the usual time, Adrienne was aware 
that Aunt Polly, his wife, taking several 
women from the quarters with her, had gone 
forward to meet him), and gazing out on the 
broad white road, now gleaming in the moon- 
light bright as day, she descried a wagon creep- 
ing along, followed by the women, whose 
mournful cries and lamentations brought every 
member of the household to the veranda, in 
terror and dismay. Suddenly Ferriby popped 
up, with eyes stretched big and wide, as she 
jerked out, spasmodically, 

“Miss Helen, po’ Uncle Abram is shot daid ! 
Dey say de Yankees kill him.” 

“Hold your tongue, Ferriby,” Mrs. Willesly 
spoke sharply. “I am sure that is not so. The 
General here would be the first to know of their 


120 


Adrienne 


presence in the country. I am going myself 
and find out the cause of the trouble.” Suiting 
the action to her words, Mrs. Willesly left the 
house in the wake of the wagon and procession 
on their way to the quarters. 

Meanwhile, Adrienne had been trying to 
realize that the old man, whom she had seen in 
the early morning so full of life and prepara- 
tions for the future, was now lying cold and 
rigid in death. What a strange fatality, she 
thought, that the evening had fulfilled the pro- 
phetic chorus of his song, sung in the beauty 
and gladness of the morning as he rolled on but 
too surely to the ‘‘promised land.” An hour 
had passed, when Mrs. Willesly returned to the 
house with a condensed but graphic account 
of Uncle Abram’s untimely death, given by the 
man who had accompanied the body home. 

“Poor old Abram’s death was purely acci- 
dental,” said she. “It seems two men, under 
the influence of drink, were having a free fight 
in the street, when a stray pistol ball entered 
the store in which Abram was standing beside 
the counter, that moment in the act of taking a 
chew of tobacco, which is still clinched between 
his teeth. The ball passed through his temples, 
causing instant death. The plug is still 
clutched in his hand in the death grip. Poor 
Abram, so kind, so faithful, so true. How 
strange it is he should have met such a fate!” 


Adrienne 


121 


And she was not ashamed of the tears that were 
now coursing down her cheeks, but sat ponder- 
ing over the many kind, unselfish acts she had 
received at the hands of this devoted old family 
servant. 

Adrienne turned away and quietly sought 
Aunt Polly’s cabin, in the silence of the night, 
whom she found remarkably composed under 
the circumstances, answering the girl’s low 
spoken words of sympathy with wonderful self- 
control. 

‘‘You see, young Mistis,” she said, “it’s jes’ 
dis way. My ole man ain’t cheated out’n many 
days nohow, an’ he wuz a Christian. No, 
honey, I ain’t ’stressed, ’ka’se I know he’s at 
rest.” 

Such an exhibition of courage, from so crude 
a source, told upon the girl. She returned to 
the house with her hopes strengthened and a 
more firmly rooted faith. 


CHAPTER XIV 


Events had so shaped themselves that on the 
following morning the entire staff, wearing on 
their faces a serious look of gravity that be- 
spoke weighty matters under discussion, ap- 
peared at headquarters, at once seeking private 
audience with their chief. 

Impressed with a vague feeling that some- 
thing of moment was on hand, though not in 
the least apprehensive of the real nature of the 
situation, Adrienne went away to her room, not 
a little disturbed and anxious, and was stand- 
ing beside the window watching the departing 
officers riding away from the house in correct 
order, when suddenly she was aware the room 
was flooded with the fragrance of flowers, and 
turning round her eyes fell on Rosine now com- 
ing toward her with a lovely bouquet in her 
hand which she presented the girl, “With 
Lieutenant Belden’s compliments.'’ 

“How perfectly exquisite,” cried Adrienne, 
a delighted rosy flush spreading over her cheeks 
as she gathered the flowers into her hands, and 
bent her head to breathe their sweetness. But 
her face sobered perceptibly as she cried out in 
her heart, “Oh, why is it so, that even my 


Adrienne 


123 


enjoyment of this simple little tribute should 
be dampened by its measure of unpleasantness?” 
And she mentally hated herself that she should 
feel so wholly unable to reciprocate the interest 
with which the giver seemed to regard her. 

In accordance with the promise she had 
given Aunt Polly that she would sing her ‘*ole 
man’s” favorite hymn at his burial, at ten 
o’clock Adrienne appeared in the lower hall 
ready to start on her solemn mission, and was 
standing a moment with her face buried in the 
flowers, which she still held in her hand, when 
Lieutenant Belden unexpectedly entered. He 
paused, taking in at a glance the situation. A 
swift gleam of hope, almost satisfaction, flashed 
over his face; for this simple little act of the 
girl, though only a trifle, revived confidence in 
his heart. 

“I am glad. Lieutenant,” she said, looking 
up with smiling eyes, and for an instant a pink 
glow was in her cheeks, “of the opportunity of 
thanking you again for these lovely flowers — 
these beautiful reminders of heaven.” 

“I feel infinitely flattered. Miss de Courcelles, 
I assure you,” he said, bowing low. “But may 
I ask whither you are tending this morning?” 

“Uncle Abram’s funeral is at this hour and 
I have given my promise to be there.” 

“Will you allow me the privilege of accom- 
panying you ?” he asked solicitously. 


124 


Adrienne 


She hesitated a moment, then said, 

“I am afraid, Lieutenant, the experience 
would prove anything but pleasant for you.’' 

^‘Rest tranquil. Miss de Courcelles, I am sure 
I shall be able to acquit myself creditably, never 
fear.” 

After arranging the flowers in a handsome 
rose-bowl filled with fresh water and placing 
it on a stand in the hall, Adrienne and Lieuten- 
ant Belden started out, walking slowly down 
the broad street leading between the quarters, 
shaded on either side by magnificent oaks, in- 
terspersed with the old-fashioned locust now 
in full bloom, the fragrance of the flowers, as 
they took in the cleanliness and pleasing appear- 
ance of the low white-washed cabins border- 
ing the long stretch of avenue, regaling delight- 
fully their senses. 

The funeral cortege, made up of the old 
man’s many friends and boon companions, was 
just in the act of moving. The Lieutenant and 
Adrienne followed slowly. As they advanced 
deeper into the forest, soon Uncle Abram’s 
freshly dug grave loomed up, a solemn and 
suggestive sight, while directly over the open 
grave, perched upon a branch of the tree, a 
sweet-singing bird was chanting in low notes a 
requiem for the departed soul. All at once, 
in the ecstasy of religious fervor, an old- 
fashioned hymn swelled out over valley and 


Adrienne 


125 


hill-side, in melancholy echoes, from the large 
assemblage. After this came an agonizing, fer- 
vent, impressive prayer from the 'colored divine, ’ 
so loudly emphasized on all sides by groanings 
and intonings from the mourners that the scene 
partook of the weird and uncanny. The next 
moment, “Jesus, Lover of My Soul,” sung to a 
simple, touching air by Adrienne’s sweet con- 
tralto voice, of a peculiar charm and timbre, so 
startled the Lieutenant that he changed color. 
It was a revelation that sank deep into his soul, 
never to be eradicated. She sang it through 
to the end, the negroes bending and swaying 
their bodies to its cadence and rhythm, while 
the young officer’s curious glance traveled over 
the crowd of black faces encircling the grave, 
thinking to himself that never before had he 
been placed in quite so novel a position. But 
as she ceased, his gaze wandered back to the 
dainty girl by his side, in time to see a tear 
fall upon her somber dress, and, stooping, he 
whispered a proposal to leave, as the thudding 
dirt had begun to fall on the coffin lid. 

As they walked slowly away there was a 
shadow on the girl’s sweet face that did not 
vanish, even when they had reached the open 
sunshine. Presently, looking up into Lieuten- 
ant Belden’s face, she said, 

“I want to thank you. Lieutenant, for your 
kindness. It was a relief not to have been alone 


126 


Adrienne 


out there. Though I feel distressed indeed at 
Uncle Abram’s untimely death, he is gone, 
never to come back ; his place will never be filled 
in this family.” 

“If I have served you in any way. Miss de 
Courcelles, I am amply repaid, I assure you. 
You must allow me to say that I no longer 
wonder at your power to win all hearts,” and 
now he looked intently down upon the droop- 
ing head. “For my part, I will freely con- 
fess that since I first met you I have thought 
of no one else — dreamed of no one else; and 
though I may have to give you up, you can 
never know how entirely I love you. Let me 
plead with you not to think lightly of what 
means life to me.” He stopped abruptly, for 
his voice had grown husky with feeling. But 
as she slowly shook her head, glancing up into 
his sad, brooding face, there was no mistaking 
the gravity in her eyes and voice as she said, 
in low, sweet tones, 

“Believe me. Lieutenant Belden, I cannot tell 
how grieved I am at this. I must not encour- 
age your love, nor must you dwell upon the 
thought. Please forget it as soon as possible 
by putting it entirely out of your heart.” 

They had reached the veranda. The Lieuten- 
ant replied, with a little touch of sadness in his 
voice. 


Adrienne 


127 


' 'Perhaps I have presumed too much on so 
recent an acquaintance. I thank you, Miss de 
Courcelles, for your ready and cool suggestions, 
and assure you it shall be as you wish.'' Bow- 
ing low, he left her standing with flushed 
cheeks, her heart beating violently at the 
thought of what had occurred. She felt there 
was no accounting for the vagaries of the 
human heart, as strive as she would, love re- 
fused to spring into life at her bidding. 

An hour later, as Lieutenant Belden left the 
General's rooms, his eager glance round in 
search of Adrienne meeting with disappoint- 
ment, he was conscious of an unspeakable, 
humiliated, and hurt feeling in his heart ; while 
the girl herself, sitting in her room in moody 
silence, was running over in her mind the un- 
pleasant ordeal — which she sincerely deplored 
— through which she had just passed. 

Mrs. Borden, having observed the brooding 
melancholy on the Lieutenant's face, surmis- 
ing the cause, exclaimed to herself, 

"If that foolish girl has rejected him, I shall 
indeed be more disappointed than I care to 
acknowledge to myself. She is so lovely, and 
is charmingly suited to him." 


CHAPTER XV 


General Borden, his wife, and Adrienne 
formed a trio at the breakfast table the next 
morning. Mrs. Willesly, having spent a sleep- 
less night with a pain in her face, was not 
present. 

Adrienne, a little pale perhaps, but lovely in 
her pallor, presided at table with her usual ease 
of manner. But the General, heretofore so 
urbane and pleasant, was now abstracted and 
troubled, while to the eye of an outsider it 
would appear that any attempt at conversation 
was strained and irregular. All at once the 
click of horse-hoofs coming rapidly toward the 
house was heard on the smooth gravelled road, 
and immediately Major Herndon, with Lieu- 
tenant Belden, dashed up to the gate and dis- 
mounted, agitation and excitement showing in 
their faces. The next moment the General had 
received a message that caused his face to pale 
perceptibly, and rising from the table he 
abruptly quitted the room. But the next mo- 
ment he was back again, holding a conference 
with his wife in rapid, low tones, then hurried 
out into the hall, leaving Mrs. Borden with con- 


Adrienne 


129 


sternation on her features. She moved slowly 
toward Adrienne, and said in almost a whisper, 

‘‘Child, I have the greatest news to tell you. 
The Federal battleships are now standing oppo- 
site the fort. An engagement will ensue at 
once. General Borden has warned me to leave 
with as much despatch as possible. Surely, 
Mrs. Willesly will raise no objection to retir- 
ing with us under the protection of our soldiers 
as they fall back to prepare for an attack on 
land.’’ 

But when Mrs. Willesly promptly but kindly 
declined the offer of refuge under the Confed- 
erate wing, Mrs. Borden was indeed taken 
aback. 

“In the event of battle, Mrs. Willesly,” said 
she, “what protection can you render your 
family or property?” 

“I am sure I cannot foresee what is about to 
happen, but I have determined to remain in 
my home, whatever may be the peril of so do- 
ing,” was the decided answer. 

“Certainly you have not thought it wise to 
keep Adrienne with you ?” 

“Really, Adrienne, now since I think of it, T 
cannot allow you to remain. You must go with 
Mrs. Borden. It is the only thing you can do.” 

The girl was standing with her back to them, 
looking from the window out on the sunlit 
lawn, but turned and crossed over to Mrs. Bor- 


130 


Adrienne 


den, and taking her hand in her own with a 
warm friendly pressure, she said earnestly, 

“Believe me, Mrs. Borden, I value your 
kindness more highly than I can say, but I can- 
not think of saving myself, thus leaving my 
friend alone, and suffering as she is at this mo- 
ment. You must know such an act on my part 
is simply out of the question.” 

“Adrienne, I devoutly pray you may not have 
cause to repent of your decision. But I no 
longer have time to plead with you. I will say 
good-by, Mrs. Willesly, breathing a heartfelt 
prayer for the safety of your little family, and 
that your lovely home may not meet with any 
disaster.” 

Mrs. Borden hurried away, to find Rosine 
had not been idle in her absence, but had 
gathered together everything in readiness to 
start at quick notice. 

Lieutenant Belden was infinitely shocked at 
Adrienne’s resolution, and had started to seek 
her, with the intention of persuading her to 
change her mind, even at the eleventh hour, 
and join them, when a sudden summons from 
his General forestalled the movement. But as 
he hastened forward to obey the mandate of his 
superior officer, he found time as he passed 
through the hall, to say to Adrienne, 

“It is not ‘good-by,’ Miss de Courcelles; I 
will not have it so, but will hurry back as soon 


Adrienne 


131 


as the battle is over to assure myself of your 
safety/’ 

He wrung her hand, and hurried on, just 
as Mrs. Borden came up, with solemn face and 
her eyes wet with tears. Drawing the girl 
affectionately into her arms and kissing her 
tenderly, she said, 

“I cannot bear to leave you in this way, 
Adrienne, for I am afraid you have made an 
unwise decision.” 

At parting Adrienne’s eyes expressed a 
boundless look of sadness as they smiled a mel- 
ancholy farewell. And presently, as she heard 
the ambulance lumber out of the lawn, she knew 
they were now left to the mercy of circum- 
stances, and felt all the more desolate after hav- 
ing had the protection of soldiers so gallant and 
chivalrous. But seeing the emergency, Mrs. 
Willesly and Adrienne set to work by a strong 
effort to fortify themselves in the determina- 
tion to brave all before them unflinchingly. 


CHAPTER XVI 


At 'high noon on the same day, Mrs. Willesly 
and Adrienne, restless and at a loss to know 
what to do, had settled themselves in chairs on 
the veranda and were discussing their now 
serious situation, when Dr. Harding, the family 
physician, galloped up to the gate, calling out 
in tones of evident excitement and agitation, 

‘T do not wish to be an alarmist. Madam, 
but thought it my duty to let you know that the 
Federals are preparing to leave the boats. A 
battle will soon be in progress. But, should 
the action bear more in the direction of 
Champion Hill, you will escape the thickest 
of the engagement. However, stragglers from 
both armies are more to be dreaded than any- 
thing.” 

“I thank you, Doctor,” Mrs. Willesly 
answered, ‘Tor your kindness and trouble. I 
am beginning to realize how foolish and reck- 
less I have been in refusing Mrs. Borden’s re- 
peated offer of protection under the Confed- 
erate wing. But I could not decide to desert 
my home in cold blood.” 

“If you will pardon the expression of an old 
friend. Madam, I must say that you have been 


Adrienne 


133 


exceedingly unwise in refusing so generous an 
invitation/’ 

am satisfied of that fact, Doctor. But, 
oh !” and she now buried her face in her hands 
in excessive pain, the next moment lifting her 
head, showing features drawn and white, as 
she called out, “Doctor, will you kindly come 
and see what is the cause of this excruciating 
pain I am suffering?” 

“With pleasure. Madam. I am positive the 
pain proceeds from a defective tooth. I shall 
gladly do all I can to relieve you, but will warn 
you that it must be drawn. I must be quick, 
as we are too dangerously near the enemy to 
admit of any loitering on the road.” In the 
mean time, the Doctor had reached the ver- 
anda. Ferriby, having dexterously rolled out a 
large arm-chair on the southwest side of the 
veranda, Mrs. Willesly at once seated herself, 
bracing her nerves against a severe physical 
shock. The Doctor proceeded to examine, with 
professional skill, the afflicted member, when 
simultaneously with the application of the in- 
strument they were rooted to the spot by a deaf- 
ening roar and a blinding light overhead. A 
terrific explosion shook the earth. Ferriby, 
bounding like a cat into the air, gave vent to 
an ear-splitting shriek. Dr. Harding now stood 
in the posture of paralyzed astonishment as he 
held the reeking instrument at arm’s length. 


134 


Adrienne 


The children were sobbing, frantic with fright, 
while Adrienne stood with her face buried in 
her hands, and Mrs. Willesly clung to the arms 
of the chair, shaking in every limb. 

“Doctor,’^ she called in trembling tones, 
‘^have you really drawn my tooth ?” 

But another deafening explosion and blind- 
ing light put a stop to their breath a second. 
Speech, thought, and understanding seemed to 
have forsaken the little group. Ferriby, with 
chattering teeth, stood trembling, her eyes 
stretched wild, while her skin had turned an 
ashy hue. The Doctor, drawing long breaths 
of violent perturbations, looked round him half- 
dazed. But suddenly huddling together his 
belongings he found enough power of speech at 
last to express his ‘Tegrets” to Mrs. Willesly — 
though not in his natural voice — at being 
forced to leave them so unceremoniously, and 
striking out for his horse, the next moment was 
flying like the wind down the road, intent upon 
putting as long a distance between himself and 
the Union army as possible. 

Mrs. Willesly and Adrienne could but resign 
themselves to what was to follow. Pale, silent, 
and agitated, they moved from place to place, 
knowing there was nothing but danger ahead 
of them, and during the entire day they were 
continually terrorized by the excessive can- 
nonading and bursting shells. 


CHAPTER XVII 


The night of terror and suspense came to 
an end. Their eyes opened upon a serene and 
lovely morning — upon a summer landscape 
radiant in its beauty. The blur of smoke had 
disappeared from the deep blue vault of heaven, 
which was now clear and brilliant. Adrienne 
looked out upon the sparkling sunshine, re- 
joicing in the depths of her grateful soul to be 
alive. Lying on a leather lounge in the hall, 
where she had thrown herself almost in utter 
exhaustion, Mrs. Willesly was breathing thank- 
fully the balmy air sweeping through from the 
open doors, as she drew a long, deep sigh of 
relief, and moved her lips in silent thanksgiv- 
ing to have been spared to see a new day. 

But presently she rose to her feet and ven- 
tured into the kitchen, to find Augie at her 
usual post, setting about preparations for break- 
fast. 

''Augie,’' and there seemed to be almost a 
hush in her voice as she spoke, "we are quite 
faint from the effects of our long fast. Give 
us a wholesome breakfast this morning.” 


136 


Adrienne 


“Yes, Miss Helen, I will ’deavor to do so, 
’ka’se you is lookin' powerful starved, an' white 
in de face." 

“And our troubles are not over yet, Augie. 
How reckless of me to have refused Mrs. Bor- 
den's kind offer to take us with her. It is true, 
I should have deserted my home, but what is 
anything in comparison to the dreadful danger 
to which we are now hourly exposed?" She 
unconsciously wrung her hands as the tears 
trickled down her cheeks. 

“Now, Miss Helen, you mus'n't take on so, 
honey. Mebbe times ain't bad as dey look." 

“Alas, I can’t help thinking: our country has 
come to a pretty pass." And now dropping her 
hands disconsolately at her side, Mrs. Willesly 
walked slowly away, leaving Augie standing 
with arms akimbo, shaking vigorously her tur- 
baned head as she looked after her Miss Helen 
and ruminated over the condition of things. 
But however concerned and perplexed Augie 
may have felt on account of the state of her 
Miss Helen's mind, the breakfast was soon 
smoking upon the table, daintily and deliciously 
prepared. 

Just as the little family had finished the so 
much needed repast, a loud cry from Ferriby, 
who burst in upon them, “De Yankees, de 
Yankees, Miss Helen!" so startled them, that 
knives and forks were dropped on the table 


Adrienne 


137 


without ceremony, as hastily rising from their 
seats they rushed out on the veranda to find, 
sure enough, the lawn overrun with Federal 
soldiers. At sight of them, Mrs. Willesly’s 
wits suspended action a moment, but soon 
managing to rally, she went forward with as 
bold face as possible, timorously addressing the 
officer, who stood near with his back turned to 
them, her voice trembling in spite of the effort 
made at self-control. 

“Will you kindly tell me the meaning of 
this?” 

He turned at once, lifting his cap politely, 
saying, 

“I will assure Madam that she need feel no 
uneasiness on our account. We have but 
stopped by to water our jaded horses at your 
pond, on our way to headquarters.” 

“Whose headquarters, may I ask?” 

“General Grant’s, Madam.” 

“Will there be a battle?” 

“Our command is now preparing to fall in 
line.” 

Her face perceptibly paled at this, but she 
eagerly ventured again — 

“Shall my residence be in danger ?” 

“I can give you no assurance to the con- 
trary, Madam. One can never foresee the 
result of battle.” 


138 


Adrienne 


But, confused as her brain now felt, Mrs. 
Willesly fully grasped the situation, and run- 
ning a thought quickly over in her mind, at 
once settled on a plan. 

“Will it be asking too much of you to de- 
liver a written message from myself to General 
Grant ?” 

The officer eyed her with curiosity a moment, 
then rather abruptly answered, 

“I must warn you. Madam, that he may not 
have time to read or reply. Nevertheless, I 
will take your message at your request.’^ 

“Oh, thank you,’’ and with trembling heart 
she vanished into the house. After the lapse 
of a few moments she was on the spot again 
with a sealed envelope in her hand, which she 
eagerly thrust into the officer’s keeping, who 
rode away almost immediately, followed by his 
tired men. Then turning to Adrienne, who 
had been a silent witness to this dialogue, Mrs. 
Willesly said in anxious tones, 

“I scarcely think General Grant will refuse 
my earnest appeal for protection in our sore 
need.” 

“Have you requested a special detachment of 
Union soldiers to guard your castle in the hour 
of great danger?” said Adrienne, a little glint 
of derision in her eyes. 


Adrienne 


139 


‘‘Surely/’ was the answer, a little surprised 
at the girl’s tone. “You approve of what I have 
done ?” 

“Approve? Most certainly — in this crisis. 
But, Mrs. Willesly, I would prepare you for 
the answer, not at all consistent with the ap- 
peal.” And not feeling in the humor for dis- 
cussing the matter at length, Adrienne walked 
away. 

But, greatly to her surprise, and Mrs. Wil- 
lesly’s relief, the answer came in two hours’ 
time, which Mrs. Willesly read aloud to 
Adrienne, her hands quivering so that the paper 
shook. 

“Dear Madam : 

“In response to your appeal to me In this 
emergency, I will say, that in the stress of the 
hour I have only time to assure you that I have 
nothing to offer you in the way of refuge, save 
the protection of our boats. Should you con- 
clude to retire to them the privilege is yours. 

“Yours truly, 

“U. S. Grant.” 

Mrs. Willesly sat unconsciously twisting the 
note between her fingers, thinking profoundly, 
while a shade of disappointment and worry had 
fallen over her face. Presently raising her 
eyes to Adrienne, she said mournfully. 


140 


Adrienne 


‘‘I am sure it is not at all clear to me, as to 
what I did expect. Not this, certainly. Yet,’’ 
and she sighed deeply, “surrounded as we are 
on all sides by the enemy, and completely cut 
off from retreat among friends, what else is 
there to do but accept the only offer of assist- 
ance open to one ?” 

“Surely, Mrs. Willesly!” Adrienne ex- 
claimed with a mutinous look in her eyes, “you 
are not contemplating a retreat to the gun- 
boats ?” 

“Why not ? As whistling bullets are not in 
the least to my fancy, nor in my line of duty 
to face, I shall proceed to hunt a place of safety 
with as little loss of time as possible. For, in 
our present condition, every hour is precious.” 

A moment of silence followed, in which it 
needed no inspiration to convince Adrienne 
that it would be unwise, in her present posi- 
tion, stubbornly to oppose Mrs. Willesly’s judg- 
ment and authority. Prudently maintaining a 
smoothness of manner, she resignedly set to 
work making preparations for a speedy de- 
parture. 

Desperate at thought of being hemmed in 
between two armies in hostile positions, ex- 
posed to the din and carnage of the conflict, 
Mrs. Willesly gave herself no time to think of 
the gravity of the move she was about to make, 
but at once ordered their baggage placed in a 


Adrienne 


141 


spring wagon and wheeled off to the river. 
Shortly after, with Adrienne, the children, 
and Ferriby close behind, they filed out to 
the waiting carriage in solemn procession, en- 
countering on the way Augie and Aunt Polly, 
who had stationed themselves near, and were 
now weeping, no doubt with sincere devotion 
for their mistress. 

“Look here. Miss Helen, is you an’ de young 
Mistis took pris’ners?” whispered Aunt Polly. 
“My po’ ole heart is sho’ akin’ to see you leavin’ 
home in dis fashion.” 

“We are not prisoners. Aunt Polly. But we 
are going — ” she hesitated between a sob and 
a sigh — “because — we don’t know what else 
we can do. Meantime, Aunt Polly, while I am 
gone you will overlook the place for me and 
look after yourselves. You can have the pro- 
visions in the smoke-house and anything else 
you may need. Good-by.” She could say no 
more, but received a hearty pledge from her 
faithful servants that on her return she would 
find them at their post, true to the trust she had 
placed in them. 

The carriage drove off, the soldier who had 
brought the message from General Grant, as 
envoy. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


The journey to the river was sad and dismal, 
of which Mrs. Willesly gave expression by a 
copious shower of tears behind her veil. 
Adrienne, on the other hand, did not shed a 
tear, nor did she speak a single word, but sat 
silently brooding over the fact that as they pro- 
gressed on the road there had been no sign of 
either Federal or Confederate soldiers. Con- 
vinced the Confederates had fallen back and 
that General Grant was in hot pursuit, a flood 
of dread and distress surged through the girl’s 
soul, while, at thought of what the conse- 
quences might be, she scarcely restrained her 
tears. 

The carriage now reaching the edge of the 
woodland overlooking the river, the huge bat- 
tle-ships lying out in bold relief on the water, 
coming into full view, struck dismay to their 
hearts. And presently, as they waded deeper 
into difficulties, upon beholding the interior of 
one of these gigantic floating arsenals, they 
were all the more struck with shivering dread 
at thus being consigned to impregnable walls of 
iron, seemingly in their helpless condition 
truly a prison-house. The occasion demanded 


Adrienne 


143 


a wonderful amount of courage and heroism 
to withstand the hopeless outlook ahead of 
them. 

Adrienne sank upon the nearest seat in the 
cabin, giving herself up, for the moment, to an 
irresistible melancholy, wistfully bendine her 
eyes before her— a suspicion of tears on their 
lashes — praying in her heart that the light of 
hope might break in upon her soul and release 
her of this horrible dread of danger. The 
entire little circle, now sitting round in stiff 
chairs, betrayed an unnatural calm, by no means 
resembling the serene quiet that usually hovered 
over their peaceful fireside at home. A little 
over the way the sable Ferriby, having stationed 
herself beside the children, presented a picture 
of big-eyed curiosity, now starting at every 
sound. But as night came on, tired nature suc- 
cumbed to the much-needed rest. Adrienne, 
for a while at least, was oblivious to harrowing 
doubt and anxious care. However, upon wak- 
ing, she was more alive than ever to the un- 
certainty of their condition, while her thoughts 
constantly reverted to Colonel Strafford, whom 
she felt certain was hourly exposed to danger 
and death. She little dreamed that during the 
night, as he was crossing the river from the 
Louisiana side in a narrow punt, he came so 
near the ship in which she lay sweetly slumber- 
ing, that reaching out he could have touched 


144 


Adrienne 


the side with his oar. A skilled oarsman from 
his English training, by dexterous sweeps he 
skimmed over the water, soon bringing the 
prow of his boat safely to land under the shades 
of night, so making good his escape that, 
shortly after, he reached Richmond with his 
mission satisfactorily accomplished. 

But the moments lengthened into hours — 
hours into days, and as yet General Grant had 
not appeared on the scene. In the mean while, 
with the passing on of time, Mrs. Willesly, 
having grown restless, her daily vocation had 
become a ceaseless promenade to and fro, keep- 
ing it up with unabated energy. 

Once as she was passing in the neighborhood 
of Adrienne, she suddenly paused and said, with 
manifest irritation, 

‘‘Do you know, Adrienne, that if I had not 
seen with my own eyes the pallor on your face, 
and quiver on your lips, I should have con- 
cluded long since that you are flinty in your 
nature. For my part, if this state of things 
keeps up much longer I shall cry out in sheer 
despair. Our situation is becoming more in- 
supportable every hour. The death sentence 
hanging over us at home has been commuted 
to life imprisonment on this cruel ship. In vul- 
gar parlance, we have but jumped out of the 
frying pan into the fire.'’ 


Adrienne 


145 


said Adrienne, now giving way to a 
low, musical laugh, though Mrs. Willesly 
observed the tears in her eyes, “I must confess 
that ever since General Grant^s ready compli- 
ance with your appeal for protection, I have 
been stretched upon the rack of devouring curi- 
osity. For I am convinced to have secured so 
promptly the answer to your petition, you must 
have employed a more potent argument than 
has appeared in evidence.’^ 

‘"I don’t mind acknowledging, since the deed 
is done,” she answered, now dropping into a 
confidential attitude, ‘^that I called into effect 
no mystic influence, nor flattering blandish- 
ments, as an avenue to General Grant’s clem- 
ency; but merely a bold statement of one 
student’s attachment for the other in the days 
of their alma mater, which bringing the be- 
nevolent result, proves successfully that he was 
inclined to hear my prayer for protection in the 
hour of our great need and danger. I will con- 
fide to you, Adrienne, that my father and Gen- 
eral Grant were classmates at college, closely 
linked together by an indissoluble bond of 
friendship.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


The morning following this conversation. 
Adrienne woke wretchedly depressed, and im- 
pressed with a feeling that something was 
about to befall their fortunes. Anything but 
blind to their peril, the gravity of their situa- 
tion weighed heavily upon her spirits. But 
upon making a tardy appearance among her 
fellow-sufferers, she was greeted by the unex- 
pected news that the ship was now lying off 
from Vicksburg, which filled her mind with 
dire perplexity and gave her heart uneasy 
throbs as she sat down to shape her thoughts 
into some reasonable conclusion. Presently the 
approach of footsteps roused her from her sober 
reflections, and drew her from her drooping 
posture, and raising her eyes, they fell on an 
officer, tired and travel-worn, whose reserved 
mien bespoke his identity. Coming slowly on 
he paused before Mrs. Willesly, and bowed, as 
he said, with a weary smile, 

^*Have I the pleasure of addressing Mrs. Wil- 
lesly, my late correspondent?’' 

‘T am indeed glad to see you, General Grant,” 
was the alert, cheerful reply ; “while you cannot 


Adrienne 


147 


understand) the genuine relief your presence 
brings with it/^ 

‘‘And you are the daughter of my old school- 
fellow, Charles Somers?” he asked reflectively. 

“Your name, General Grant, from my youth 
up, has been as familiar as household words.” 

“Ah,” said he, and there was an inflection 
of honest feeling and sympathy in his voice, 
“Charles Somers was a noble, whole-souled 
man, and a loyal friend. Fate has willed it that, 
while I am left to ‘do battle with inexorable 
war,' feeling that it is well we are not standing 
on opposite ground, he has entered upon his 
journey in the happy Beyond, and who knows 
how soon I may join him?” 

Noticing the General’s eyes had wandered to 
the silent girl sitting near, Mrs. Willesly took 
advantage of the first lull in conversation to 
say, as she introduced him to Adrienne, 

“My young friend here. General, has been 
detained some length of time, waiting an oppor- 
tunity to go to her grandfather, who resides on 
the Potomac in Virginia.” 

The General seemed to be thinking deeply as 
he sat observing the beauty of the girl’s sad face, 
while he made no direct reply to Mrs. Willesly. 
But presently, his face lighting up with a smile, 
he said, 

“Ladies, I shall now propose a remedy for 
your present unfortunate position, in so far as 


148 


Adrienne 


it may rest in my power to accomplish it. In an 
hour’s time a steamer, now ready to start, will 
leave for Memphis, in which I sup-gest that you 
shall take passage, where you will be placed in 
more comfortable quarters, and will be out of 
the range of danger. Allow me to sugeest that 
you should make your preparations at once, as 
the boat will be here shortly that will transfer 
you in safety from the ship to the packet. Miss 
de Courcelles,” now turning and smiling 
pleasantly down upon the girl, which suddenly 
dispelled the gathering tears in her eyes and the 
gnawing anxiety at her heart, must say, from 
the fact that I have a daughter of my own, your’ 
position appeals to me; therefore, I shall keep 
you in mind, and arrange as early as possible 
to place you on the road so that you may reach 
your grandfather without difficulty. Though 
it would be well to bear in mind that the cam- 
paign in Virginia is one of continuous action, 
and growing more heated every day.” The 
General moved toward Mrs. Willesly, holding 
out his hand and saying, 

“Though we have met under peculiar circum- 
stances, Mrs. Willesly, I wish to assure you of 
the pleasure it has afforded me to make the 
acquaintance of the daughter of my old school- 
fellow and friend Charles Somers. Allow me 
to express my sincere regret at the untoward 
position in which you have been placed by the 


Adrienne 


149 


fortunes of war. I hope soon to be able to send 
you safely back to your homes.’’ And with a 
cordial good-by to each of the ladies, General 
Grant, under the relentless call and pressure of 
business, hurried away. 

An hour later they were skimming over the 
quiet flowing water in the open sunshine. The 
morning was so clear and splendid the gloom 
lifted from Adrienne’s heart, in spite of the 
terror through which she had passed. Her 
heart now swelling with thanksgiving at their 
sudden and miraculous escape from the monster 
gunboat, she was simply beside herself with joy. 

Mrs. Willesly, on the other hand, now sitting 
in the boat, with bowed head, gazing into the 
mirror-like surface of the water while her tears 
unconsciously mingled with the passing ripples, 
seemed to have settled into a silent melancholy. 
When, all at once, glancing up and encounter- 
ing the girl’s grave, sympathetic eyes resting 
upon her, she repeated, 

^Regrets !’ can regrets, Adrienne, restore 
to me my home — which I know has been sacri- 
ficed — with its crowded associations of a happy 
past ? lam convinced by the unhappy experi- 
ence through which we have passed, Adrienne, 
that it is indeed vain to put one’s trust in any- 
thing in this transitory world, one is so suddenly 
and rudely sent adrift,” 


150 


Adrienne 


*‘Why take such a gloomy view of the mat- 
ter? Have we not cause to rejoice that we are 
now breathing the free air of heaven?’’ And 
turning her face toward Vicksburg, now stand- 
ing out in clear relief in the shimmering morn- 
ing sunshine, the girl continued, with a little 
tremulous catch in her voice, “I am sure, 
even though we are still in the toils of the 
enemy, we would not care to exchange places 
with the inhabitants of that city, whose sor- 
rows are just begun. The sufferings in 
store for them will yet enlist perhaps every 
compassionate throb of our hearts.” 

As the steamer presently swung out in mid 
stream, heading for Memphis, Mrs. Willesly 
and Adrienne felt that the sudden transition 
from the barriers of a stupendous iron-clad bat- 
tle-ship to the sunny, airy quarters of a Missis- 
sippi River floating palace was a matter over 
which there was call for earnest gratitude and 
self-gratulation. 


CHAPTER XX 


'^Adrienne/' cried Mrs. Wfllesly, suddenly 
entering the girl’s room one morning in Mem- 
phis, where they were putting up at a popular 
hotel, “do you know that after you left the table 
just now I chanced to overhear those officers, 
who sit near us at table, discussing the siege 
which, it seems, is now in progress at Vicks- 
burg, and was so overcome at the news, that 
unable to control my emotion, tears ran down 
my cheeks, dropping like great white beads into 
my lap. But observing my agitation they im- 
mediately changed the subject. Nevertheless, 
the unhappy fact remains, of which I have hur- 
ried up here to let you know.” 

“We are entirely helpless in the matter, Mrs. 
Willesly, and can only appeal to our stock of 
resolution to be patient in waiting, and ever 
maintain an unbroken faith in the One who has 
promised succor in the hour of danger and dis- 
tress.” Adrienne was standing before a mir- 
ror, carefully arranging a veil over her hat and 
face, preparatory to going into the street. 

“Seeing you veiling yourself so carefully, 
Adrienne, reminds me that we are manifestly 


152 


Adrienne 


objects of curiosity to the officers in this hotel, 
however much they strive against staring 
rudely.” 

“But as yet,” the girl answered, smiling 
brightly, “we have no cause for resentment. 
And now, try and rouse yourself from this 
semi-stupor, and watch eagerly for an early de- 
liverance from our troubles and difficulties. 
Perhaps our release is nearer than we have any 
idea. Good-by for the present. I will soon be 
back, and hope to find you, on my return, with 
your usual spirits restored.” Nodding brightly, 
Adrienne left the room, starting out on the 
perplexing mission of having a dress fitted, a 
traveling outfit of a subdued, lovely shade of 
gray, in exchange for the somberness of her 
mourning garb, of which she had lately grown 
excessively weary. 

Upon her passages through the lobby of the 
hotel, Adrienne had frequently noticed an 
officer, who invariably occupied the same posi- 
tion, engrossed in the morning paper. His 
eyes, as she moved gracefully on her way, 
never failed to dwell upon her with unconscious 
admiration. This morning in particular, find- 
ing the aisle obstructed by luggage, she was 
forced nearer the officer, whose “pardon me,” 
as he rose to let her pass, drew a hurried glance 
from the girl’s dark eyes up into his. She was 
struck by something familiar — something in 


Adrienne 


153 


his accent and bearing that unmistakably de- 
noted the high-bred Englishman. 

At length the catastrophe of the fall of Vicks- 
burg was known by the jollity of the officers in 
the hotel over the great Federal victory. Mrs. 
Willesly, with sinking heart, poured forth her 
sorrow in rivers of tears. None the less over- 
whelmed at the depressing fall that seemed to 
over-shadow the destiny of the South, Adrienne 
gave expression of her sorrow and distress 
alone by a silence eloquent in its sadness and 
mournful regret. This disaster in the fortunes 
of the Confederate cause loft in its wake in their 
hearts a dull apathy. Indeed, soon they began 
dimly to realize, with fear and dismay, that the 
chain of oppression was already forged that 
would fasten the South upon the pages of his- 
tory a victim to overwhelming numbers. 

Sitting alone in her room one morning, 
Adrienne was suddenly roused by a quick tap 
at the door, and a servant entered, presenting 
a card upon which was the name, “E. Havelock, 
Lieutenant, U. S. A.,” with the accompanying 
request to see Miss de Courcelles in the parlor 
a moment on business. 

She rose, and walked in a kind of dream to 
the parlor. The unknown officer, rising and 
bowing at her entrance, her surprise was com- 
plete, while he scarcely veiled the admiration 
elicited by her loveliness. 


154 


Adrienne 


^‘Miss de Courcelles, I suppose 
A graceful bend of the head was her only 
answer. As they seated themselves, he went on 
to say, 

have been authorized to inform you that 
I am commissioned by General Grant to escort 
you under a flag of truce into the Confederate 
lines, and there place you on the road far 
enough to reach your friends in Virginia in 
safety — without any fear of molestation or 
difficulty.’' 

Evidently greatly relieved, as well as over- 
joyed at this piece of unexpected good news, 
she replied with a frank smile, 

‘^Assuredly, General Grant has my grateful 
acknowledgments for so much kindly consid- 
eration toward one who is an entire stranger. I 
shall always remember him with deepest grati- 
tude. But I am sure it would puzzle older 
heads than my own to know how to dispose of 
such an emergency. However, I shall act ac- 
cording to what I deem for the best, and trust 
all will go well.” She rose from her seat. Ris- 
ing also, he said with a courtly manner, 

'‘Will Miss de Courcelles allow me to assure 
her that, though she is at present in the hands 
of the hostile section, it is the vow of knight- 
hood to protect a lady in distress. I would sug- 


Adrienne 


155 


gest, Miss de Courcelles, that the uncertainty of 
war demands that we should leave as early as 
possible.” 

“If you wish, I can be ready for the early 
morning train.” 

Bowing acquiescence, Lieutenant Havelock 
withdrew^, simply intoxicated with the girl’s 
beauty and charm of manner, never having seen 
her before without the protection of a veil. In 
the early morning a carriage was standing at 
the entrance of the hotel, when presently 
Adrienne made her appearance. She wore a 
gray traveling dress, with hat to correspond, 
and looked so charming that one might be 
pardoned for an almost rude admiration. The 
children were clinging to her skirts, and the 
indispensable Ferriby, an interested party, fol- 
lowed closely behind. Preferring not to make 
a public exhibition of her tears, Mrs. Willesly 
parted from Adrienne in the privacy of her own 
room, congratulating herself that she too would 
take her departure on the morrow for the more 
congenial atmosphere of her native New 
Orleans. 

Lieutenant Havelock was promptly on time, 
and the next moment they were whirling swift- 
ly on to the morning train, having left the 
children on the side-walk sobbing out their sor- 
row in childish, heart-broken lamentations, 


156 


Adrienne 


Ferriby, with much parade, making strenuous 
effort to quiet their distress. 

This early departure had not escaped the 
notice of several officers in the hotel, who gazed 
from their windows down upon the officer and 
young lady as they entered the carriage and 
were driven away. And certainly they could 
not be censured for the little impulse of envy 
that assailed them toward Lieutenant Have- 
lock. That he should have been appointed en- 
voy to so lovely a creature they deemed in itself 
a mark of distinction, and one they scarce dared 
hope would fall in their line of duty. 

Noting that the whole cast of Lieutenant 
Havelock’s countenance was distinctly pleasing, 
and inviting to confidence, was of infinite relief 
to the girl sitting opposite him. He conversed 
in a versatile, entertaining way, seeking unob- 
trusively to attend to her few wants. Never- 
theless, observing that he invariably alluded to 
the Southerners as ‘‘rebels,” her patience finally 
arrived at a limit, as presently turning to him, 
she said, with rising color, 

“I am certain. Lieutenant Havelock, by your 
manner of expression — though I have no inten- 
tion of setting you right in the matter — that you 
are laboring under the weight of an error in 
regard to the integral workings which have re- 
sulted in this national disaster. I will do you 
the justice, however, to say that perhaps you 


Adrienne 


157 


have joined the contest against the South in- 
flated with the thrilling sentiment of saving the 
grand American Union, while the majority 
have been carried away by the exhilarating idea 
of freeing the slaves. Though it is true the 
South is in no way responsible for the origin of 
the institution, it is but just to concede the fact 
that the race, under discipline and control, has 
made rapid advances toward Christian civiliza- 
tion.” 

‘T am satisfied. Miss de Courcelles, the South 
is sincere in maintaining its position, though 
to a disinterested onlooker there would seem 
room for inquiry. At any rate, I trust the diffi- 
culty may soon be adjusted. While, pardon me, 
I shall make a little confession. I have arrayed 
myself on the Federal side of the contest, not 
through any rancor toward the South, but 
simply for adventure. It is true, the enthusiasm 
of friends, with whom I happened to be visiting 
when war was declared, swayed me in a meas- 
ure. I joined the army ostensibly to fight for 
the Union.” 

‘^Ah, Lieutenant, as I am thoroughly in touch 
with the purity and authority of the principles 
of the Southern people, I can assure you their 
fidelity to the Union has ever been loyal and 
unwavering, but their attachment was for the 
spirit that dominated the hearts of our fore- 
fathers, and guided them in formulating and 


158 


Adrienne 


adopting the Constitution. As matters stood 
between the North and South, war was the 
inevitable result. For, is anything so mon- 
strous as a country compromising its principles 
by yielding unreservedly to the dictation of the 
aggressor? This, had it comnlied with Mr. 
Lincoln’s demand of unconditional surrender, 
would have been the position of the South. His 
idea of restoration, in his own words, was the 
immediate disbanding of the Confederate 
armies, allowing the National authorities to 
resume their functions.” 

‘‘Apart from the motive to which I have 
already alluded. Miss de Courcelles, I have 
taken no pains to delve into the pros and cons of 
the matter. But of this fact I am certain, the 
Confederate ranks are weakening every day. 
How will you accept utter defeat ?” 

Her cheeks suddenly paled as she answered in 
solemn tones, 

“It will indeed be a crowning sorrow! A 
stricken country, by conquest of overwhelming 
numbers, does not indeed settle the moral right 
of a question. A principle is indestructible.” 


CHAPTER XXI 


Having succeeded beyond his most sanguine 
expectation in placing his charge under the pro- 
tecting wing of the Confederate authorities at 
Chattanooga, — all of whom received her with 
marked courtesy, expressing ungrudgingly a 
willingness to promote her interest in every 
way, — Lieutenant Havelock sought Adrienne 
at once to say good-by, and found her sitting 
at a window in the parlor looking down on the 
ceaseless procession of passers in the street. She 
turned at once as she saw him coming forward 
with a look of thoughtful gravity on his face. 

“Miss de Courcelles,’’ he said, his tone plain- 
ly tinged with regret, “I have come to say my 
mission, so far as you are concerned, is at an 
end. But now that I must leave you, I wish to 
assure you of the pleasure our little tilts in con- 
versation have afforded me. My prayer is for 
peace throughout the United States, over which 
must float victoriously the National flag, and 
that we may soon meet again.^' 

“Perhaps, Lieutenant’' — she looked at him 
with a faintly ironical smile in her eyes — “you 
wish your words to bear the impress of proph- 
ecy. I do not intend leading you into a dis- 


160 


Adrienne 


cussion, but will say that, however pleased I 
should be to meet you again, I should object to 
the ground upon which you mention our meet- 
ing must take place. Profiting by your ex- 
ample, I must declare my undying faith in the 
final triumph of the Confederate cause when it 
shall have been transformed into an independ- 
ent and prosperous government.’^ 

‘‘I see,” he laughed, ‘‘you are not to be per- 
suaded, and, at heart, are a rebel to the core.” 

am only reasonable and consistent,” she 
answered, smiling brightly. ‘‘I thank you. 
Lieutenant Havelock, for your kind attention 
and trouble; and though I am anxious the 
South should succeed, I sincerely pray you may 
not meet your fate through the deadly aim of 
a Confederate ball.” 

“I am convinced. Miss de Courcelles, you 
are at least a generous foe. In parting, allow 
me to say that I have a prophetic feeling that 
our next meeting is not far distant; and now 
that you are going where the country is con- 
tinually under the blaze of gunpowder, I 
would urge you to be constantly on your guard. 
Good-by.” Turning, without another word, he 
walked steadily out of the room, the military 
ring of his step reaching her ears until it had 
died away in the distance. 

The task of traveling alone Adrienne had 
undertaken with considerable qualms. Realiz- 


Adrienne 


161 


ing, however, there could be no turning back, 
she pushed forward unfalteringly in her de- 
termination to reach her destination. 

Upon reaching Richmond she was gravely 
advised by the authorities of the difficulties she 
would perhaps encounter on the road. But for- 
tunately, discovering that a reconnoitering 
cavalry squad was on the eve of moving toward 
the Potomac, she sought at once to place her- 
self under the protection of the gallant captain, 
who readily agreed to guard her, even to the 
neighborhood of her grandfather’s residence, 
whose staunch principles and unstinted hospi- 
tality, he assured her, had a wide reputation. 

A carriage having been procured for 
Adrienne’s personal accommodation, and a 
spring wagon for her baggage, they started off, 
with the Captain and his men riding far in ad- 
vance of the carriage, though never long out of 
sight. 

Unable to resist the consciousness of her 
lonely condition, Adrienne felt as tranquil as 
could be expected in view of the uncertain 
nature of her journey, and was glad, as the 
evening shadows were darkening into night, 
when the entire convoy halted on the outskirts 
of a small hamlet, before a plain, substantial 
residence, at the gate of which stood a woman 
whom the Captain supposed was the lady of the 
house. After a short interview he gave 


162 


Adrienne 


Adrienne into her charge, who smilingly wel- 
comed the girl, though with considerable curi- 
osity as she removed her hat and veil, revealing 
her beautiful face. Comfortable quarters were 
placed at the Captain’s disposal for his men, 
and the two drivers were safely housed. Pres- 
ently there was spread before the hungry trav- 
elers a memorable supper, for which the old 
Virginia kitchen is so celebrated. An undis- 
turbed night’s rest followed. They rose with 
the early dawn and were soon en route. Their 
progress over roads channeled and rutted by 
constant travel of army supply wagons, proved 
anything but easy going, and Adrienne natural- 
ly concluded she would indeed have cause to be 
thankful if she should get through the day with- 
out any broken bones. She was resting con- 
fidently on the word an untried stranger had 
given, and congratulated herself that at the 
passing of every mile-stone she was surely near- 
ing her destination. 

As the rays of the sun slanted long, and they 
were driving through a region of tall forest 
trees, the dreamy, peaceful hour disturbed alone 
by the notes of a sweet-singing bird, making 
itself heard above the slight noise of the wheels, 
all at once, to her intense amazement, as she 
leaned against the carriage window looking out 
at the passing scenery, she descried a cavalcade 
of soldiers coming toward them in a swift. 


Adrienne 


163 


sweeping charge. Her heart sprang into her 
throat, as quick, furious firing instantly fol- 
lowed. The carriage stopped short. The driver 
sprang to his feet, and with a look of terror on 
his ebony face exclaimed, “By gosh and leap- 
ing over the wheels disappeared as though the 
ground had swallowed him, before the affright- 
ed girl half-realized his intention. Simply over- 
come with terror by the plunging, panting, 
snorting horses, — though they made no attempt 
to run, — she scarcely had the strength to force 
open the door and scramble to the ground, 
where she stood trying to meet death as bravely 
as possible. 

But a sudden silence fell where, but a mo- 
ment ago, there had been confusion and tumult 
of battle. Failing to comprehend the issue, and 
scarcely conscious of what she was doing, 
Adrienne kept her place, a look of pain still 
shining in her eyes and her face white as death, 
while her sweet, sensitive lips looked as though 
carved in marble. Happily, there was a diver- 
sion by the Captain’s sudden appearance, who 
rode up and dismounted. But as he glanced 
quickly round he exclaimed, 

“Your driver. Miss de Courcelles — what has 
become of him? Surely you have not been 
alone during this little ordeal ?” 


164 


Adrienne 


^^Alas!” was the answer, the suspicion of a 
tremor in her low tones, ‘‘at first sound of the 
guns he fled, completely panic-stricken.” 

“The cowardly rascal!” He looked down 
into the girl’s white face, his eyes singularly 
gentle and sympathetic. “But, Miss de Cour- 
celles, you must understand that I acted purely 
on the defensive, and would not, of my own 
free choice, have exposed you to the uproar and 
danger of this little skirmish.” 

The Captain now stood leaning against his 
horse, fanning himself vigorously with his cap. 

“It seems marvelous,” was the low, con- 
strained reply, “that one soul should have es- 
caped such deadly firing. And certainly. Cap- 
tain, you could not have been on your guard 
against so sudden an attack.” 

“A soldier. Miss de Courcelles, is always 
ready for battle. Apart from the fright it must 
have occasioned you, I cannot deny that I en- 
joyed the little fracas with considerable zest!” 
his swarthy* face and black eyes lighting up with 
a peculiar flash of feeling. 

“Is it so. Captain, that you soldiers actually 
enjoy thrusting your sword through an enemy? 
How one’s blood curdles at the mere thought 
of the cruelty of war. But, tell me, was any one 
wounded or killed ?” 

“Strange to say, the only serious sufferer is 
the Union officer who led the charge, and who 


Adrienne 


165 


is so severely wounded that I must bestir myself 
and get him on the road to a safe asylum and a 
surgeon/^ 

“If you should need a conveyance,” said 
she graciously, “this carriage is at your dis- 
posal.” 

“What,” he exclaimed, “sacrifice your con- 
venience to the comfort of a stranger, and an 
enemy !” 

“He is a human being, in a critical condition. 
I can travel the remaining distance in the little 
wagon with my trunks. Do not refuse. Cap- 
tain, but hasten, lest the shock and loss of blood 
will be too much for him.” 

He was convinced by her frank smile, and 
mounting his horse, rode away, muttering to 
himself, “An extraordinarily unselfish young 
lady.” 

Left to herself, Adrienne looked about her, 
and selecting a nice leafy spot on the side of 
the road, seated herself to wait the Captain's 
return. Suddenly the sound of creaking wheels 
caught her ear, and the next moment, creeping 
round a clump of trees in a bend of the road, 
came the little wagon jogging along. The old 
darky had been taking his own time over the 
rough, rutty road, which had been fortunate 
for Adrienne. For, had he been on hand at 
the time of the skirmish, she would have been 
minus another driver. 


166 


Adrienne 


The prisoners presently came filing by under 
guard. At sight of the officer’s limp, drooping 
figure, half-reclining in the carriage, and his 
face faint and white as death, a feeling of 
sublime pity filled Adrienne’s soul. She could 
scarcely repress the tears of sympathy that 
sprang to her eyes. But the Captain, bringing 
up the rear, now dismounted at her side. 

‘‘Miss de Courcelles,” said he, “I hate to 
interfere with your comfort and start you off 
on another processional march, but the sooner 
you are under shelter the better. We must not 
waste time; so, allow me,” and he assisted her 
with care to the little back seat in the wagon, 
and the next moment they were driving ahead, 
bumping, swaying, and jolting along regard- 
less of her nerves and powers of endurance. As 
they progressed laboriously on the way Ad- 
rienne felt incapable almost of lucid thought. 
Trembling at every fleeting shadow in which 
she felt danger lurked, she seemed to have just 
gotten rid of the clutch of some horrible night- 
mare. The day having settled into twilight, 
fire-flies flashed in and out among the bushes 
grouped by the road-side. 

On account of Adrienne’s presence, the 
soldiers were pushing steadily forward to a 
place of safety, feeling the responsibility of so 
delicate a charge. Besides, knowing they were 


Adrienne 


167 


not safe from another attack, they wished to be 
free to do effectual work. 

But as the wagon was now groping its way 
through the darkness, all at once it came to a 
violent halt. The old darky, starting to his feet, 
exclaimed in gasping tones of smothered horror. 

“Good Gawd ! young Missus, who is dem I 
hears a talkin’ ?” 

“Drive on, and we shall see,” she said curtly. 

“Now, young Missus,” he answered squeam- 
ishly, “de good Lawd knows you is suttinly 
furgittin’ de sponserbility I be fetchin’ on me- 
se’f by carry in’ you into trouble.” And stolidly 
settling himself on the seat, he refused to budge 
another inch. 

Compelled to submit, Adrienne sat thinking 
intensely. She began to shiver with nameless 
dread as a creepy feeling of fear came over her. 
Straining her eyes into the Egyptian darkness, 
suddenly she seemed to distinguish the dim 
outline of figures a few paces off, and the next 
moment hearing the Captain’s deep bass voice 
in earnest conversation with a woman whose 
tones of culture and refinement revealed to her 
that she was a lady, she listened as the lady as- 
sured the Captain that she had been lurking in 
the woods in the hope of his passihg that way, 
solely to warn him of a conspiracy on foot to 
capture him that night with his company. 


168 


Adrienne 


“I have been contriving all day, Captain,’^ she 
added, “some method of giving you and those 
concerned, a timely alarm/^ 

“Mere words. Miss Preston, are weak to fully 
express my appreciation of your brave, unself- 
ish act, which amounts to the saving of myself 
and men” And there was no mistaking the 
deep note of gratitude in the Captain’s voice. 
However, the sound of Adrienne’s name from 
the Captain’s lips, as he proceeded to explain 
to the lady her presence and dependence on him- 
self for protection, almost took the girl’s breath 
away. But the prompt reply — a cool proposal 
by the lady to undertake the Captain’s responsi- 
bility and pilot his charge, the countrv being 
familiar, the remaining distance to her grand- 
father, whom, she declared, she knew well from 
character — though it struck the girl with as- 
tonishment, was of infinite relief to her as she 
sat quietly in the dark, and she had not yet re- 
covered from her surprise when they came up. 

“I was certain, Miss de Courcelles,” said the 
Captain, cheerfully, “you were somewhere near. 
This is Miss Preston, who has expressed a 
desire to help you in this strenuous hour.” 

“I am only too thankful,” came the eager, 
cordial reply, just as they caught sight of one 
another’s face by the flash of a match struck by 
the Captain across his boot heel, “for Miss Pres- 


Adrienne 


169 


ton’s charitable offer of assistance. Miss Pres- 
ton, you can not know how happy your kindness 
has made me.” 

“I suppose I may say, Miss de Courcelles, 
that you have practically accomplished your 
journey,” the Captain said, now assisting Miss 
Preston to the seat beside Adrienne. ‘‘And I 
assure you, as I leave you in good hands, that 
it will not be long before you shall have reached 
the end of your road in safety.” 

“Ah, Captain,” she said, an unsteady note 
in the low tones, “now that I must bid you 
adieu, allow me to thank you so earnestly for 
all the kindness you have shown me in this sore 
need. I shall ever remember you. Captain, with 
feelings of warmest gratitude.” 

“I do not desire thanks for protecting a lady 
in distress. And hereafter. Miss de Courcelles, 
should you find yourself driven into difficulties, 
an appeal to me shall meet with prompt re- 
sponse. I will now say good-by to you both, 
praying you may steer safe from all breakers on 
your journey.” 

Starting them off on the road leading to the 
home of Miss Preston, the Captain took the 
opposite direction, plunging into the blackness 
of the forest beyond to join his company. 


CHAPTER XXII 


On a broad white turnpike, amid the soft, 
sweet gloaming, a droll-looking little wagon 
came lagging along, drawn by a lazy horse, 
whose halting gait plainly told of his readiness 
to give up the race. The old darky, trying in 
vain to mend his pace by an unsparing applica- 
tion of the whip, finally yielded droopingly to 
the existing state of things. 

Two young ladies, sitting on the back seat 
of the wagon, were making the best of their 
cramped condition by conversing upon various 
subjects, thus dragging the weary hours by. 
Adrienne, however, leaned back and listened, 
while Miss Preston did most of the talking. At 
last, reaching a dirt road leading off from the 
turnpike. Miss Preston directed the driver to 
turn aside and follow it. But a short distance, 
and they came to a large white gate, through 
which they passed into an extensive park-like 
enclosure. Sitting some distance back among 
the trees, revealed by the light of the moon, was 
an imposing Colonial residence supported by 
immense fluted columns, its glimmering lights 
from the window up-stairs plainly in sight. 
The travelers were soon out of the wagon. 


Adrienne 


171 


traversing in silence the broad gravel drive 
leading up to the main entrance. Miss Preston, 
who was a little in advance of Adrienne, passed 
up the steps and rang the bell, which was 
promptly answered by a sedate looking old col- 
ored major-domo, who, upon Miss Preston's 
request to see Mr. Stanley, conducted them 
through a wide lofty hall into an elegant draw- 
ing-room, where they were asked to be seated 
in luxurious chairs. 

Adrienne, in view of the coming meeting 
with her grandfather, sat nervous and tremb- 
ling. Presently, footsteps were heard ap- 
proaching, and at once there appeared in the 
door a stately looking old gentleman, attired in 
black. His white hair, thrown loosely back from 
his brow, revealed a scholarly looking face, 
lighted up by a pair of alert, incisive eyes. Ad- 
vancing a few steps into the room, he stood a 
moment glancing from one to the other. But 
as Adrienne made no attempt to meet him. Miss 
Preston, feeling compelled to come to her res- 
cue, moved forward with extended hand, smil- 
ing graciously as she said, 

‘‘Mr. Stanley, you do not know me, but I 
have heard of you so often I feel I know you 
quite well. I am Miss Preston, almost a 
neighbor of yours, from a county not far off. 
This is my friend Miss de Courcelles, recently 
from Mississippi, who has been separated from 


172 


Adrienne 


her friends by an unfortunate train of circum- 
stances, and providentially falling into my care 
I have taken her under my protecting wing/' 

At mention of Adrienne's name, a chord of 
memory in Mr. Stanley's brain began to vibrate, 
and fixing his eyes upon her he repeated her 
name in a whisper, then suddenly aloud, in 
much agitation, he said, 

‘That name, with your striking resemblance 
to her, could belong to no other than her own 
child, my dear." Now approaching the quiver- 
ing girl, “Are you my granddaughter ?” 

“My mother was Grace Stanley." But her 
sentence was finished in the arms of her grand- 
father, who held her in a close, tender embrace, 
saying in broken accents, 

“Is it so, my prayer is answered at last? 
My child, I have been hard, but I have deeply 
repented, though I realize it is too late for her 
to know." 

“I am certain my mother could not have died 
with any bitterness in her heart toward her own 
father. Knowing your generous nature so well, 
I am certain she looked forward to your for- 
giveness in the end, even though she had to die 
without hearing it from your lips." 

“I must confess, my dear, to have had very 
little control over my blind prejudices at that 
period in my life, which was ever my besetting 
sin. But lengthening years have given me time 


Adrienne 


173 


to reflect, and realize wherein I have been seri- 
ously at fault. Tell me of your father, my child. 
Where is he at present?” 

She glanced up into his keen eyes, smiling 
frankly, and feeling there was nothing mys- 
terious nor subtle in the answer she had to give 
in reference to one who, she knew so well, had 
not been fortunate enough to possess a place in 
the favor of this stately old gentleman. 

“My father is now residing in Cairo, Egypt. 
His health was almost a complete wreck at the 
time of his leaving the United States, but a 
continued residence in the dry, invigorating 
climate of the East seems to have restored his 
shattered strength, and I do not think he could 
now be induced to exchange his foreign home 
for one on this side. Through my father’s de- 
sire to have me educated in my native land ac- 
counts for my being at present in the United 
States. But as early as there is a safe oppor- 
tunity I shall join him at Cairo, where he pro- 
poses we shall live permanently.” 

“Now, my child, how came you here? For, 
see, we are but a stone’s throw from the Union 
army.” 

“Ah, grandfather,” she said, with a winning 
smile, “could you have seen the picturesque 
manner in which I have entered the sacred pre- 
cincts of your home, you would congratulate 
me on my temerity, and be convinced that 


174 


Adrienne 


naught but direst necessity could have driven 
me to such an expedience. I will explain that 
it was only a short while ago, on a bright and 
beautiful morning, my friend, Mrs. Willesly 
(who is a daughter of my guardian), and my- 
self were driven for refuge in the hour of danger 
to the Federal battle-ships.^' 

^‘Then you were taken prisoners ?" 

“It was purely the accident of war, I am 
sure, grandfather. Though our detention was 
unpleasant, it could not have been designated so 
harshly." 

But insisting that she should begin at the 
beginning and give a circumstantial account of 
her experience, Mr. Stanley placed his head in 
a comfortable position on the cushioned back of 
his chair, thus declaring himself an interested 
audience. 

Adrienne related it all in as few words as pos- 
sible, and when she had finished her grandfather 
turned to her in a most affectionate manner and 
said, 

“My dear, I am happy and thankful to afford 
you all the protection in my power. But you 
will soon comprehend, alas! how entirely we 
are in the hands and at the mercy of the enemy." 

The short silence that followed was suddenly 
broken by the appearance of a young lady, who 
had advanced some few paces into the room, 
when, perceiving Adrienne, she stopped abrupt- 


Adrienne 


175 


ly, regarding her with unfeigned astonishment. 
While the undisguised surprise and constraint 
manifested toward each other by the two ladies 
at once awakened in Mr. Stanley’s mind a feel- 
ing of keenest curiosity. He rose from his 
chair, turning to the young lady, and saying 
questioningly, 

''Belle, I judge by your manner that you 
have seen this young lady before.” 

"Yes, grandfather,” in curt tones, "I remem- 
ber once to have met Miss de Courcelles in New 
Orleans.” And vouchsafing a distant bow to 
Adrienne, she turned to quit the room. 

"Hold,” said Mr. Stanley, throwing out his 
hand with a formal, dignified gesture, "I have 
something to say that will surprise you even 
more than the young lady’s presence in this 
room. Miss de Courcelles is your cousin, and 
my granddaughter.” 

"Is it possible !” she gasped. "Why, there is 
not a drop of Stanley blood apparent in her 
features.” 

"She has her father’s complexion, it is true, 
but her expression is all her mother’s.” And 
he now contemplated Adrienne’s beautiful face, 
while the girl herself had drawn the conclusion 
from Miss Conrad’s behavior that this revela- 
tion had been exceedingly distasteful, and her 
lips accordingly had become proud and tremu- 
lous. 


176 


Adrienne 


am not responsible for the connection, 
Miss Conrad,” she said to the young lady, coolly 
and firmly, “and will assure you my presence in 
my grandfather’s house shall not exceed an 
hour over a safe opportunity of getting away.” 

“Tut, tut, my dears, this show of animosity 
between two, who should be friends at least, is 
exceedingly irregular. It is a lady’s province 
to be free from vindictiveness.” Mr. Stanley’s 
voice was stirred with emotion. But ere . the 
words had left his lips. Miss Conrad, with a 
proud poise of the head, had swept from the 
room, Adrienne immediately approached her 
grandfather with sweet humility and dignity, 
as she said, 

“I regret so much, grandfather, to have an- 
noyed you ; and believe me, in the future I shall 
try never to give you cause to complain.” 

“I would have you overcome this foolish 
pride, my child, which will only bring you a 
harvest of misery in time to come. Amiability 
is an indispensable ingredient in a young lady’s 
temperament. I must say that I deplore having 
seen this ugly little weakness in Belle’s charac- 
ter, and shall take it on myself to remonstrate 
with her seriously in regard to the matter.” 

Adrienne’s room that night commanded a 
view of the Potomac, beyond which the bright 
watch-fires in the Union camp in the distance, 
throwing a red glare over the dome of the sky, 


Adrienne 


177 


so charmed and fascinated her, that as she stood 
watching the attractive picture, unconscious of 
the passing hours, the chime of twelve o’clock 
from the lower hall startled her from her idle 
dreams and sent her to bed. The chilling en- 
counter with Miss Conrad still weighing on her 
spirits, she presently unconsciously exclaimed 
aloud, /Ts there no escape from enemies with- 
out, and the menace of one within ?” 

Miss Preston, having been a surprised, silent 
witness to this little family drama, naturally felt 
interested to see it played out to the finale, of 
which, however, by the appearance of a few 
Confederate scouts, under whose protection she 
felt forced to place herself on her return home, 
she was denied. En route, she fell to thinking 
of the discovery she had made. She felt that 
Miss Conrad’s open dislike for Adrienne was 
purely based upon the ground of the young 
lady’s consciousness of Adrienne’s indefinable 
charm, that invariably captivated those with 
whom she came in contact. 

The days moved swiftly on. Meantime, as 
nothing could exceed Miss Conrad’s displeas- 
ure and chagrin at the appearance of this new 
cousin, she kept up the same cool, unbroken 
front, a barrier the girl in no way felt disposed 
to overstep, while she had had occasion to 
know that her grandfather had carried out his 
threat to reprove the young lady in round terms. 


178 


Adrienne 


But as there had been no change in Miss Con- 
rad’s proudly polite manner toward the ‘^intrud- 
ing cousin,” through sympathy, though not 
often given to sentiment, there had begun to 
grow in the heart of this old gentleman an 
earnest, tender affection for this singularly 
lonely and lovely girl. Consequently, Adrienne 
often found herself accompanying her grand- 
father on his accustomed morning drives in the 
neighborhood. 

“I find, my dear,” he said, as they were 
leisurely trotting along on the turnpike, “the 
more I stay indoors the less interest I seem to 
take in outside affairs, therefore I force myself 
to go as a defense against any morbid attack.” 

For Adrienne the two events of the day were 
the morning drive with her grandfather and 
the reveille in the Union camp in the evening. 
It was impossible to resist the roll of the drum, 
that never failed to draw her to the window, 
where, plainly in view, at a distance, the grassy 
slopes were white with hundreds of tents, mak- 
ing a scene so picturesque in beauty she could 
not refrain from a romantic admiration. 

But the truth began to stare her in the face, 
that the prospect of getting away from her 
grandfather’s house was still as indefinite as 
ever. On one occasion, accidentally overhear- 
ing Miss Conrad remark to Mr. Stanley that 
Mrs. Vincent had returned to her home in 


Adrienne 


179 


Washington City, her heart trembled with un- 
speakable joy. For the mention of the familiar 
name had stirred memories that of late had 
seemed to drift into a silent past. 

Winter arrived, bringing with it extremely 
cold weather. The entire face of the earth was 
covered with a sheet of ice and snow. Each 
day was only a repetition of the other, silent, 
dreary, and monotonous. For the sake of a 
little diversion, Adrienne often resorted to the 
veranda, that she might look out upon the white, 
silent world around her. She was standing in 
the biting cold one morning, when suddenly 
she observed a detachment of Federal soldiers 
passing on the turnpike, the next moment fol- 
lowed by a small body of Confederate troops, 
evidently courting a running fight. Firing be- 
gan immediately. Adrienne held her breath as 
volley after volley was repeated, rushing on, 
one in pursuit of the other, until the noise of 
the guns died away in the distance. As she 
drew a long, deep sigh of relief, the girl gravely 
acknowledged to herself the state of affairs 
must soon culminate. After this the frequent 
fusilades kept Adrienne continually on the alert, 
until she gradually grew accustomed to the 
noise of rifle shots. 

About this time, Mr. Stanley, beginning to 
realize the Confederates were being forced into 
giving ground every day, was convinced they 


180 


Adrienne 


could not much longer hold out against the 
stupendous pressure brought to bear upon them. 
Sad and dejected he walked the veranda in piti- 
ful helplessness, as repeated sighs burst from 
his lips. Oh ! the agonizing thought of having 
to yield to an overwhelming onslaught. It was 
an unequal contest, the gravity of which now 
was beginning to be a source of great anxiety 
for the future in the hearts of the Southern 
people. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


At sound of the early bugle-call in the Union 
camp one morning, Adrienne rose earlier than 
usual, that she might take a turn on the veranda 
before the breakfast hour. While making her 
toilet, catching glimpses through the windows 
of the white mantle over the entire woodland, 
the boughs of the trees simply weighted down 
with snow and pendant icicles, strangely 
enough the wintry landscape suggested the op- 
posite picture — love speeding her thoughts over 
the seas to the odorous, balmy shores of the 
silent East, to the welcoming arms of her father 
outstretched to receive her. 

Suddenly the click of horse-hoofs on the crisp 
ice caught her ear, when, quickly drawing up 
the sash, and looking down on the early intruder 
with curiosity and interest, to her amazement 
she discovered a mounted Confederate officer 
directly beneath her window, who this moment 
chanced a hasty glance upward. Their eyes 
met. Over his features flashed a look of de- 
lighted surprise, as with uplifted hat he bowed 
nearly to the pommel of his saddle. With an 
answering glow and smile irradiating her lovely 
face, she bowed her head in cordial greeting. 


182 


Adrienne 


But her whole soul was tossed in the throes of 
emotion. She fell on her knees beside the win- 
dow and leaned her head upon her arms, try- 
ing to recover her equilibrium. Presently ris- 
ing to her feet, a feeling of excitement half- 
painful, half-delightful filled her heart as she 
prepared to go down-stairs. 

All at once his imminent danger occurring 
to her, she clasped her hands in dismay and 
cried aloud, ‘‘Oh! what fate has brought him 
to so challenge consequences?’' Then remem- 
bering his pale, stern face as it had appeared to 
her in the early gray light of the morning, she 
was impressed that his mission in that region 
was no child’s play. 

Later on, upon entering the dining-room, she 
was considerably taken aback at finding Miss 
Conrad already comfortably ensconced in a 
chair directly in front of a brightly burning fire. 
Standing near, leaning against the mantel and 
talking earnestly in low tones, was Colonel 
Strafford. Immediately there was a rush of 
pride into Adrienne’s heart, while an unwonted 
color flushed her cheeks. But forcing herself 
forward, she met him with great charm and 
simplicity of manner, while, as he took her 
hand in his, addressing her in his usual high- 
bred tones, she detected a note of restrained 
feeling in his voice. 


Adrienne 


183 


“We seem fated to meet most unexpectedly, 
Miss de Courcelles. I little thought this morn- 
ing, as I rode along in the cold, cheerless gray 
of the early dawn, such happiness was in store 
for me/’ 

“I am delighted to see you, Colonel Strafford. 
It is always pleasant to meet old friends.” Her 
tone was conventional, but low and sweet. 
Firmly withdrawing her hand from his grasp, 
she hastened forward to assist Hannah in plac- 
ing breakfast on the table, leaving him staring 
after her with a glow in his eyes. But as he 
resumed his former position at the mantel, and 
conversation with Miss Conrad, he could not 
resist the thought of the subtle change in 
Adrienne’s face that flashed through his mind, 
failing utterly to unravel the tangle. 

In the mean time, Adrienne’s quiet exterior in 
no way betrayed the deep concern she felt for 
Colonel Strafford’s safety. At the sound of 
every noise on the ice outside, her heart sank 
within her. “Oh! what could have induced 
him to risk himself in the very teeth of the 
enemy?” was her constant, unanswerable 
thought. The breakfast was ready, and as Miss 
Conrad moved forward to do the honors of the 
table, Adrienne walked quietly from the room, 
closing the door behind her. Bending her 
steps to the veranda, she stationed herself to 
watch, and give warning at the approach of 


184 


Adrienne 


danger; for she was greatly troubled with a 
vague, uneasy pain at her heart. 

Much to her surprise, a company of Confed- 
erate soldiers were dismounted in one corner 
of the lawn, engaged in feeding their horses, as 
they talked and exchanged jests among them- 
selves. The trees being stripped of their leaves, 
it was easy to see a long distance on the turn- 
pike in either direction. But suddenly descry- 
ing some distance off a body of Union troops 
coming rapidly toward the house, the great 
terror of her heart was realized. Rising trem- 
bling from her seat, Adrienne fled down the hall 
to the door of the dining-room, throwing it wide 
as she stood breathless and affrighted, gaz- 
ing at the couple now so complacently discuss- 
ing their breakfast. 

“Save, save yourself. Colonel Strafford !” she 
gasped, her white, set face warning him there 
was not a moment to lose. But in passing her, 
he bent low and said, 

“Do not needlessly expose yourself to danger, 
I implore you. Good-by, and God bless you !” 

She could not have spoken for her life. But 
after a moment of suspense and waiting, that 
seemed to Adrienne an eternity of torture, he 
came dashing by followed by the howling Con- 
federates. His magnificent presence, as he 
boldly faced danger and death, added to the at- 
traction of being a superb rider, was indelibly 


Adrienne 


185 


impressed upon Adrienne’s excited brain. Mute 
with terror she stood, drawn by the fascination 
of the horror of witnessing a deadly conflict be- 
tween determined antagonists. Utterly regard- 
less of her own personal safety, she looked at 
the rapid action of battle. Presently catching 
sight, through the tumult and smoke, of Colonel 
Strafiford, whose horse was swaying under the 
saddle, grappling with a Union officer, who now 
reeled to and fro and the next moment fell to 
the ground, the girl quaked with excitement, 
and was scarcely able to repress the cry on her 
lips. Drawing a long breath, and closing her 
eyes, she hoped to shut out the horrible picture. 
But at this juncture, above all other sounds, 
there arose the thunder of galloping cavalry, and 
a stream of reinforcements rushed up on the 
blaze of the contest. The scene was memorable 
and not apt to be forgotten. The sudden silence 
that followed caused Adrienne to drop into the 
nearest chair, faint and white, helplessly cling- 
ing to the arms with trembling hands. Over- 
come with curiosity and anxiety, which seemed 
to drive terror from her brain, she presently 
recovered sufficiently to rise to her feet again, 
and look out on the late battle-ground. 

The smoke had cleared away. Colonel Straf- 
ford, whose horse lay dead several paces away, 
was now leaning over the fallen officer, with 
sadness in his eyes, muttering to himself, “How 


186 


Adrienne 


in all that is wonderful, came you here ? Ah ! 
poor fellow, by what chance is it that you have 
met your fate at my hand?” As he still leaned 
over, looking into the face of the unconscious 
soldier, the Union guard stepped up and took 
him in charge. Adrienne realized with a 
smothered groan of anguish that Colonel Straf- 
ford was indeed a prisoner. 

Mr. Stanley, this moment walking out on the 
veranda with stately step, his face like ashes, 
began a rapid promenade to and fro, his features 
showing an inward excitement and agitation he 
was scarcely able to restrain. But at the sudden 
call of the guard to “halt !” as he presented his 
gun, he drew his breath hard and straightened 
himself, then turning his keen, incisive eyes on 
the guard, demanded, 

“Tell me why this iniquitous attack is made 
upon an unarmed man?” 

“Here, old man,” called the guard to Caleb, 
who stood protectingly near his master, “bring 
this gentleman's hat. Your question, sir, will 
perhaps receive a satisfactory answer in Wash- 
ington City.” 

But at this declaration Adrienne suddenly 
appeared on the veranda, with tears streaming 
from her eyes. Bewildered and agitated, she 
fell on her knees at her grandfather’s feet, 
breathing out in choked accents, 

“Grandfather, oh, grandfather!” 


Adrienne 


187 


The sympathetic chord in the heart of the 
guard remained utterly callous to the girl’s 
excessive pallor and overwhelming distress. 

'T am sorry to disturb you, Miss,” he said 
tersely, ‘Tut as I must remove my prisoner, I 
have no time for argument, nor to indulge in 
sentiment.” 

“Control yourself, my dear,” said her grand- 
father, placing his hand tenderly upon the 
bowed head of the weeping girl. “Remember, 
we are all in the hands of a merciful Provi- 
dence.” 

Adrienne buried her face in her hands that 
she might not see her grandfather taken away. 
Colonel Strafford ventured a last sad look at the 
kneeling girl as he turned to follow. 

She stood up on her feet presently, gazing 
down the road by which the prisoners had gone, 
perhaps never to return, and everything to the 
girl became blurred and indistinct with tears — 
silent, despairing tears. 

Fortunately, the surgeon now appeared on 
the battle-ground, drawing Adrienne’s thoughts 
in another direction as she watched him in his 
rounds among the wounded, of whom there 
were several. Federal and Confederate. 

White and still the officer lay with his face 
outlined against the snowy background. The 
surgeon stopped as he regarded him critically, 
then stooping proceeded to examine him thor- 


188 


Adrienne 


oughly. Adrienne looked on from her point 
of view with sympathy and interest, then sud- 
denly descending the steps crossed over to where 
he was gravely engaged with his patient. But 
at sight of the ghastly face of the prostrate 
soldier she exclaimed aloud, in astonishment, 
“Lieutenant Havelock \” 

Her voice seeming to call him to himself, all 
at once his eyes opened, suffused with a smile 
which extended even to his pallid lips, but the 
next moment he lapsed into his former state of 
unconsciousness. 

“An acquaintance of yours. Miss?’' the 
surgeon asked, glancing up into her face. 

“Yes,” briefly ; “and as we have a spare room 
on the first floor, I would suggest that you can 
move him without delay.” 

“You are thoughtful and kind. Miss. Allow 
me to thank you for his sake. He is badly 
wounded, and is now exhausted from loss of 
blood, but I do not think his wounds are neces- 
sarily fatal.” 

Lieutenant Havelock was removed on a 
stretcher, and Adrienne returned slowly to the 
house. But not until she had reached the great 
empty hall did the realization of all that had 
happened come over her. She seemed scarcely 
able to rally her faculties. Happily, the thought 
of Miss Conrad, whom she had not seen since 
the breakfast hour, came to her relief, and ac- 


Adrienne 


189 


cordingly she began a systematic search, open- 
ing the doors as she came to them. To her sur- 
prise, in the darkened library, she found the 
young lady stretched out on a lounge in the 
throes of a nervous chill. While promptly 
administering to her sufferings, Adrienne’s 
thoughts were busy with the conjecture of how 
much of the morning’s happenings the young 
lady could be aware, but did not bring herself 
to mention the subject. 

Meanwhile, a protest against all this effort to 
help her seemed to be struggling through the 
young lady’s confused brain, as, turning directly 
to Adrienne, she said, 

‘T would not have you interest yourself so 
much about me, nor must you look so concerned. 
I feel ashamed of myself for having given way 
to physical weakness.” 

Adrienne rose at once to her feet, and stood 
looking gravely down upon her. 

‘Tf you prefer to be alone I will leave you,” 
was all she said, and she deliberately crossed 
the room and closed the door behind her. 

But the days now seemed to creep by, while 
the two cousins were enduring tortures of un- 
rest and anxiety on their grandfather’s ac- 
count. However, as it was an engrossing inter- 
est in common between them, naturally they 
were drawn together into a closer bond of sym- 
pathy, establishing more amicable relations. 


190 


Adrienne 


Alas ! troubles began to thicken. But during 
the distress and suffering of the hour, Caleb and 
Hannah proved a tower of strength in their 
willingness to protect ‘'ole marster’s grand- 
daughters.” The widespread report that Mr. 
Stanley had shared the hapless fate of many of 
his friends and neighbors did not seem to miti- 
gate in the least the pain and anxiety his grand- 
daughters were undergoing as they stared the 
fact in the face that he was now confronting a 
question of life and death ; while a sense of their 
own helplessness and dependence assailed them 
at every point. 

Careful attention from trained nurses, in the 
mean time, had accomplished the slow but sure 
recovery of Lieutenant Havelock, and he was 
pronounced sufficiently convalescent to ex- 
change his invalid quarters for more cheerful, 
health-giving surroundings. 

The young ladies, not in the humor to court 
solitude, every morning were in the habit of col- 
lecting the papers, and seating themselves in the 
hall to begin a fresh search for some reliable 
news of their grandfather. They were busily 
engaged in another diligent search one morn- 
ing, when a shadow fell across the hall door, 
and Lieutenant Havelock, a thin, ghost-like 
representation of his former self, appeared be- 
fore them. Adrienne rose from her chair at 
once, and went forward tQ meet him with a 


Adrienne 


191 


bright and charming manner, then presented 
Miss Conrad, before whom he bowed in 
courteous acknowledgment of the introduc- 
tion. Sinking into a chair Adrienne had 
thoughtfully pushed toward him, he said, his 
voice trembling from weakness as he spoke, 

‘'You cannot know. Miss de Courcelles, how 
longingly I have been looking forward to the 
opportunity of expressing my sincere regret 
that it should have been throus^h me you have 
had call to suffer. I had no idea that it was your 
grandfather’s ground upon which I was sent 
to make an attack. I received another inex- 
pressible shock upon that ill-fated morning, in 
that the blow that came near laying me low 
was aimed by a life-long friend.” 

“Colonel Strafford?” exclaimed the cousins 
in concert. 

After reflecting a moment the Lieutenant 
replied, in grave tones, 

“I am speaking of Colonel Strafford. We 
have been friends and comrades together since 
boyhood. But I am at a loss to understand 
what he is doing in the Confederate ranks. It 
is true, he is an inveterate traveler, and has 
been so long absent from home that I had quite 
lost the run of his bearings, never dreaming of 
finding him on this side of the world as my 
assailant in a hand-to-hand combat. But as 
the smoke was so thick, and excitement so great, 


192 


Adrienne 


I do not know whether or not I was recognized 
in turn. I fancy/’ now looking ruefully down 
upon his disabled arm supported in a sling, ‘‘that 
in this I have received my final parole.” 

This communication from Lieutenant Have- 
lock bringing vividly before the minds of his 
fair listeners most painful recollections of the 
recent tragic occurrences, forced them into a 
silence eloquent of the distress they were brave- 
ly endeavoring to suppress. 

The period of Lieutenant Havelock’s con- 
valescence was fraught with moments half-hap- 
py, half-miserable. Happy, because of breath- 
ing the same atmosphere with Adrienne ; 
miserable, because of the illusive hope of a re- 
turn of his devotion. Alas! The truth soon 
impressed itself upon his unwilling perception, 
that he had given his heart into the hands of a 
very unresponsive subject, and accordingly he 
became disturbed and agitated. He set to work 
with the firm resolution of getting away before 
he should have had time to betray his weakness. 
But of the nature of his regard toward herself, 
Adrienne was never made aware. 

Though he still wore his arm in a sling Lieu- 
tenant Havelock had entered upon a new lease 
of life. The time for his departure had arrived, 
and as he was bidding the cousins a reluctant 
farewell. Miss Conrad suddenly produced a 
sealed letter, addressed to Mrs. Vincent, which 


Adrienne 


193 


she asked of him the kindness to post when he 
had reached Washington. Cordially assuring 
her that he would take great delight in deliver- 
ing it in person, the Lieutenant mounted his 
horse and rode disconsolately away. 

Miss Conrad turned to Adrienne and ex- 
plained that her letter to Mrs. Vincent was an 
appeal to her for protection in their now danger- 
ously exposed condition. 

That Lieutenant Havelock had been faithful 
to the trust placed in him was evidenced by the 
arrival of a carriage from Washington, accom- 
panied by a message from Mrs. Vincent, won- 
derfully generous and kind of which were these 
few lines: 

‘'Come to me at once, it is the only thing you 
can do. To whom else would you appeal for 
comfort in your trouble? I was on the eve of 
sending for you when Lieutenant Havelock 
appeared with your letter.’’ 

So, only too glad to start at once in quest 
of safety, hoping also to glean some definite 
news of their grandfather, they called in Caleb 
and Hannah and told them. Everything was 
placed in their capable charge, and thus buoyed 
with hope, they were soon on the road to Wash- 
ington. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


Weary and heart-sick, the cousins reached 
the end of their journey, and were warmed by 
Mrs. Vincent’s affectionate sympathy, such as 
a noble, generous-minded woman only can give. 

Miss Conrad, nervous and over-strained, 
seemed to give way utterly. 

“Ah ! Mrs. Vincent,” she said, trying to re- 
strain her trembling tones, “we do indeed ap- 
preciate your goodness. Oh! the dreary, mis- 
erable time we have gone through since grand- 
father was taken away from us, is beyond the 
power of words to paint. You can imagine 
how it has been — worrying over contingencies 
that might arise to shut him off completely 
from us.” 

“It is needless to say, dear Belle, how inex- 
pressibly touched I feel on account of your 
troubles, but, with no intention of magnifying 
matters, I really believe there is not the slightest 
cause for despair.” And succeeding at last, in 
her own sweet way, in quieting, after a man- 
ner, the young lady’s distress, Mrs. Vincent 
presently turned to Adrienne, and said, 

“I am very certain, Adrienne, should you 
feel disposed to chronicle them, your varied ex- 


Adrienne 


195 


periences since we parted in New Orleans 
would fill a good-sized volume.” 

^‘But, a story too sad in its meanderings with 
which to burden the public and warrant a good 
sale,” smiled the girl. 

They had paused a moment before the draw- 
ing-room door. Mrs. Vincent, motioning 
Adrienne to enter, led the way up-stairs, 
anxious to get Miss Conrad quietly and com- 
fortably in bed. 

As Adrienne opened the door and stepped 
into the room, suddenly a gentleman of impos- 
ing presence emerged from the shadow of the 
lace curtains at one of the front windows. Com- 
ing quickly toward her, his eyes flashed instan- 
taneous joy as he caught the half-bewildered 
girl into his arms, drawing her closely to his 
heart, while, in a moment, she had realized in- 
deed that she was in the arms of her father. A 
half expressed sigh of peace, contentment, and 
comfort passed her lips. They were too deeply 
moved for words. At last Mr. de Courcelles 
broke the silence, and as he spoke his voice was 
tremulous with deep emotion. 

‘‘My child, we have been victims of most 
unfortunate circumstances; but, at last, our 
long, tedious separation is at an end.” 

“But, father,” she said, with a ring of joy in 
her low tones, “I seem to be unable to realize 
the height, depth, and broadness of my great 


196 


Adrienne 


new happiness. I have dreamed of you, pour- 
ing out all the love of my heart upon the crea- 
ture of my imagination, and now that I have 
the reality, I simply crave to cling to you, never 
again to be taken away.” 

Deep affection shone in his eyes as he re- 
garded her face. 

^'In appearance, Adrienne, you are beyond 
my fondest anticipation. But, accustomed as 
I have been to regard you as my little girl, I 
had not thought to find such a full-fledged 
young lady.” 

She glanced laughingly up into his face. 

‘‘Nor did I expect to see my father so young 
looking.” 

“You are not disappointed, Adrienne,” he 
smiled caressingly, as he placed his hand upon 
her soft dusky hair, “that I am not a decrepit?” 

“I am altogether satisfied with you just as 
you are,” she answered, with a quick, bright, 
answering smile. “I would not have one cubit 
added or taken away from your stature, nor 
change the rich olive tint of your complexion, 
nor would I have added or taken away one 
gray hair of the very slight sprinkle already, 
among your jetty locks, which gives you so dis- 
tinguished an appearance, for, to me, you are 
simply perfect.” 

“So, my child,” putting his hand under her 
chin and turning her face for earnest scrutiny, 


Adrienne 


197 


''it happens that, being mutually pleased with 
each other, we have a most delightful sequel 
to our troubles/’ And they laughed happily 
together. But having been on a prolonged 
stay from home, now that he had found 
Adrienne, Mr. de Courcelles proposed sailing 
in the next steamer on his return voyage. 
Adrienne’s brow suddenly saddened. 

"Father,” said she, "I shall not willingly 
leave Washington until I know something 
definite of grandfather. I greatly fear for his 
health under the conditions to which he is 
exposed.” 

"Make your mind at rest, Adrienne, that I 
shall do all in my power to find out his where- 
abouts.” 

"Oh, thank you, father. You cannot know 
what a sad hour it was the morning he was 
taken away under guard from his dearly loved 
home. I do not seem to forget the misery of 
that moment, as I watched the rigid pallor on 
his face.” 

Every effort was put forth to glean satisfac- 
tory information of Mr. Stanley. But notwith- 
standing the diligent search, after days of fruit- 
less effort Mr. de Courcelles was forced to 
abandon the quest. Adrienne, utterly helpless 
in the matter, was sorely disappointed, and 
trembled for the life of her grandfather. Feel- 
ing that she ought not to be a hindrance to her 


198 


Adrienne 


father in his arrangements, she yielded cheer- 
fully to his wish to sail for the East. 

In the mean time, Miss Conrad having suc- 
cumbed to the nervous shock received on the 
morning of the skirmish, was now seriously ill. 
Adrienne was sincerely sympathetic, but, with 
the exception of the doctor, nurse, and Mrs. 
Vincent, no one was allowed in her room. 

The morning upon which Mr. de Courcelles 
and Adrienne were to leave Washington City, 
as they were driving to the depot in a light trap, 
suddenly their attention was attracted a half 
block ahead of them toward a droll-looking 
procession of old men in citizen’s dress that 
moment turning the corner. All were in black, 
shabby and worn, and many were topped off 
by the regulation gentleman’s silk hat, now so 
battered and bespattered as to bear scarcely any 
resemblance to their pristine state of elegance. 
Mounted on scrubby farm horses, guided by 
rope bridles, they were filing slowly round the 
corner of the street, when a cry, clear and 
sweet, rang out on the crisp morning air, 
‘^Grandfather, grandfather!” Adrienne stood 
with arms extended, her face pale with excite- 
ment and grief. But her voice was drowned 
by the jeers of a tough crowd of boys follow- 
ing the procession, who were crying out with 
loud ha, ha’s, “Hurrah for the silk-hat bri- 
gade I” 


Adrienne 


199 


Mr. de Courcelles, at once comprehending the 
state of affairs, after a low spoken order to the 
coachman, gently drew the agitated girl down 
beside him, and tenderly tried to soothe her 
evident distress. Presently she dried her eyes, 
and looked pathetically up into his as she said, 
in a sad strain, 

*‘lt seems strange, father, those grand old 
men, who have only been guilty of fidelity to 
their country, should have had to suffer such 
bitter humiliation.” 

“Your undying faith in the love of humanity 
must have received a shock at this proceeding; 
but, alas ! Adrienne, war is a great leveller, and 
at such times distinctions are overlooked. Per- 
haps the authorities are in ignorance of what 
has transpired; at any rate, you must not let 
this unhappy episode prey upon your spirits. 
Your grandfather may have been released.” 

Meanwhile, unobserved by Adrienne, the car- 
riage had followed slowly after the procession, 
and presently drew up beside a railway station. 
Mr. de Courcelles, carefully assisting Adrienne 
out, led the way into the waiting-room, where, 
to her surprise, as she gave a hurried glance 
round, her eyes fell on her grandfather, who 
sat a little apart from his compatriots, in a de- 
jected attitude, apparently taking no notice of 
his surroundings. Adrienne took her fathePs 
hand and resolutely drew him with her, mak- 


200 


Adrienne 


ing no sign of the emotion that swept through 
her young heart as she bent over and greeted 
him affectionately. 

‘‘Grandfather,” she said, raising her voice, 
for he was rather hard of hearing, “I have 
brought my father to see you before he leaves.” 

Raising his head with a tired, worn look on 
his face, Mr. Stanley’s features lighted up with 
a smile as he held out a trembling hand and 
said in a weak, quavering voice, 

“I am glad to span the chasm of years by a 
reconciling clasp of your hand, Mr. de Cour- 
celles. I am truly glad to see you, even though 
you should find me in so humiliating a posi- 
tion at present. But, tell me, are you taking 
Adrienne away from me ?” 

A sudden look of determination had sprung 
into Adrienne’s eyes. 

“No, grandfather,” she answered firmly, 
“having this moment thought of your condi- 
tion in the absence of Belle to aid and accom- 
pany you, I cannot decide to leave you until she 
is sufficiently recovered to take her place at 
home.” 

Her father was struck dumb by this declara- 
tion, and as she glanced into his white face, 
she was almost staggered in her resolution. 
Moving near to him, she said, in low, distressed 
tones. 


Adrienne 


201 


‘'You must not feel so disappointed, father. 
For when you think of it, what else can I do? 
It would not be right to shirk my plain duty so. 
When I shall have joined you — only a little 
time off — my conscience will not be burdened 
with the sting of self-reproach. Yet, oh ! father, 
you cannot understand how unspeakably I 
yearn to go with you.” 

Restraining his annoyance by a huge effort, 
Mr. de Courcelles replied, 

“When I have been longing these many years 
to have you with me, Adrienne, must I leave 
you behind after all? You are a brave girl, 
and as I will not stand in the way of your 
sacred duty, I shall try and bear our short sep- 
aration as patiently as possible.” He held out 
his hand to the old gentleman, who grasped it 
readily with a friendly clasp. 

“It is Adrienne’s final decision to remain 
with you, Mr. Stanley, to which I have given 
my consent, until Miss Conrad is restored to 
health, and her usual place beside you. I am 
sorry to hurry away, but having a pressing 
business engagement waiting me in Paris, I 
cannot afford to delay my departure. Good- 
by, Mr. Stanley ; I hope Miss Conrad may soon 
be with you, fully recovered, and that it will 
not be long before I can welcome Adrienne to 
her Eastern home.” 


202 


Adrienne 


Taking Adrienne in his arms and kissing her 
repeatedly, suddenly releasing her, he walked 
away, never once looking back ; while Adrienne, 
with almost superhuman strength of will, was 
resisting the great wave of despondency and 
sorrow sweeping over her soul. 

But she was unconscious of the Spartan 
courage she had shown in renouncing, even for 
a short while, a happy home with her father in 
the exquisite land of the East, in exchange for 
a retired life on a deserted plantation, subject 
to the whims and garrulity of old age. 

Adrienne was standing a little apart from 
her grandfather, silently observing the comers 
and goers passing in the waiting-room, when a 
call from him drew her to his side. 

‘^Come, Adrienne, sit beside me. I want to 
say, that since I have seen your father with un- 
prejudiced eyes, I have awakened to the fact 
that he is not only an exceedingly fascinating 
man, but princely in his bearing. And I have 
noticed, my child, that you have inherited his 
low, musical laugh and voice.” 


CHAPTER XXV 


As time moved on, Adrienne's heart was 
saddened by the increasing feebleness of her 
grandfather’s step. The whiteness of his hair, 
if possible, became more bleached every day, 
while his features settled into lines of patient 
endurance, and his form seemed to grow more 
attenuated and drooping. It was touching to 
see the old gentleman stand on the veranda and 
gaze wistfully over his broad domain, where, 
instead of green fields, weeds now flourished 
undisturbed, and complete desolation reigned. 

The loneliness was depressing, but the girl 
endured it all without thought of complaint. 
At nightfall, instead of the brilliantly illumi- 
nated sky from the many fires in the Union 
camp, as formerly, a death-like stillness pre- 
vailed, broken only by the wailing note of the 
whippoorwill, and occasional hoot of the night 
owl. 

But the woods by light of day attested by 
their gorgeous array of wild flowers and fresh 
green leaves the return of spring. 

The struggle between the two sections had 
now become a continuous flame of shot and 
shell. The Confederate army now staggering 


204 


Adrienne 


under its stupendous losses, Mr. Stanley 
could no longer blind himself to the truth that 
the end was swiftly approaching in overwhelm- 
ing defeat. Alas! the star of the South must 
go down behind a murky horizon of vanquished 
hopes and the ascending smoke of desolated 
homes. 

At the announcement of the surrender at 
Appomattox, Mr. Stanley bowed his head, 
closed his lips, and seeking the gloom of his pri- 
vate study, sat down in silence to weep over the 
grave of his crushed spirit, personal liberty, and 
political rights. His manifest despair enlisted 
all the sympathy and love of which Adrienne’s 
tender heart was capable. But she could not 
persuade herself to intrude upon the sacred- 
ness of his self-imposed seclusion. Thus left 
entirely to herself, she had ample time to 
reflect upon the calamity that had so ruth- 
lessly befallen the beautiful South. But under 
the trying ordeal she was not unmindful of the 
fact that it behooved her to encourage as cheer- 
ful a frame of mind as possible. Yet, as day 
succeeded day, and there was no change in the 
weary passing hours, a condition was created 
so depressing, that even upon the hands of so 
philosophical a young lady as Adrienne de 
Courcelles, the time began to hang unspeakably 
heavy. As a relief from the solitary rooms of 
the great empty house, late one afternoon 


Adrienne 


205 


Adrienne strolled out on the river bank. She 
was dressed in white, a cluster of deep red roses 
at her belt. Discovering a boat rolling at its 
moorings in the shadow of some bushes, sud- 
denly the temptation came to her to take a row, 
merely as a diversion from her accustomed 
meditative moods. Taking up the oar, in a 
moment she was as comfortably installed as 
possible on a board seat, minus a dainty silk 
cushion, or even rug to put about her, and push- 
ing off from shore, she began to move gently 
along, drifting between the banks down the 
quiet flowing water. This experience in the 
glory of the evening on the silent river she 
would remember to her dying day. The beauty 
of the forest and sweetness of everything was 
a tonic to her downcast spirits. So rapt was 
she, so nearly in a dream, she was but vaguely 
conscious of the approach of a horseman now 
clearly outlined against the brilliant sky, when, 
upon a nearer view, his figure seemed strangely 
familiar. A curious sensation rushed into her 
heart as, having caught sight of the graceful 
white figure in the boat, thrown into clear relief 
against the green on the opposite bank, he 
paused and dismounted. He lifted his hat, 
showing his noble head, and handsome face, 
saying, as he bowed low. 


206 


Adrienne 


‘‘Will not Miss de Courcelles, for old ac- 
quaintance's sake, remove this watery barrier, 
that one may have the pleasure of shaking her 
hand after a long absence?" 

She laughed, making droll little gestures 
toward the oars in her unskilled maneuvers to 
land. Nevertheless, in a few moments she was 
holding out the oar, which he caught in time 
to save her from a sudden tumble in. Drawing 
the boat safely ashore, he took her ungloved 
hand in his, assisting her out, as he said, with a 
little tremor in his voice, while her cheek 
flushed, and her heart seemed to stop beating 
as he rested his splendid eyes upon hers, 

“Fortune has indeed favored me beyond my 
most sanguine expectation." 

“Ah, Colonel Strafford, though late, I must 
congratulate you upon your marvelous escape 
that memorable morning," she quickly said, her 
heart thrilling even at memory of the time. 

His eyes darkened with a shadow of sorrow 
that changed the smile into a look of unusual 
gravity on his face. 

“It seems wonderful," he said, “one’s powers 
of endurance. But I have not regretted, 
through it all, my share of suffering through 
the ordeal. Could the South have dominated 
the situation, I should have felt doubly repaid. 
But now it will undergo an entire change, 
socially and industrially, and as yet there is not 


Adrienne 


207 


one ray of hope to cheer the hearts of the people. 
How is your grandfather surviving the blow 

‘^Alas! he is utterly crushed/’ shaking her 
head and sighing. “I am afraid his troubles are 
just beginning. The plantation is deserted, 
with the exception of Caleb and Hannah, who 
alone have been able to resist the alluring sweets 
of freedom, and make a bold front of clinging 
to the usual routine. While I have been but 
partially successful in ameliorating grand- 
father’s distress and loneliness, I am conscious 
of not taking the place of Miss Conrad, to 
whom he is devotedly attached, but who is not 
yet sufhciently recovered to risk a return to the 
landmarks so keenly associated with the cause 
of her illness.” 

During the conversation they had seated 
themselves on a fallen tree, where the river 
rippled by. The beautiful girl, whose eyes were 
so indescribably fascinating, harmonized per- 
fectly with the romantic spot. 

have come back to tell you of my love, and 
ask you to be my wife,” he said suddenly. ‘T 
think we have realized from the first that we 
belong to each other. Are you willing to give 
yourself to me ?” His voice was deep and ten- 
der, sending a current of blissful happiness into 
every fibre of her soul as she raised her eyes to 
his, luminous from the reflection of their great 
love for him, and gave her hand into his keep- 


208 


Adrienne 


ing. He was conscious of beauty’s enchanting 
power as he bent his head close to hers, and in 
low, winning tones asked, 

“Are you happy, my darling, in trusting your 
entire future to me ?” 

“Perfectly,” she answered frankly. He 
stooped, and kissed the sweet, trembling lips. 

The red glow from the setting sun had grad- 
ually faded away into semi-darkness, when 
Adrienne suddenly sprang to her feet, exclaim- 
ing hurriedly, 

“See, Colonel Strafford, how late it is grow- 
ing. Grandfather will be anxious. You will 
come by and see him?” 

“I regret, little one, that I cannot comply 
with your invitation so sweetly given. But, in 
answer to an urgent call, I am now on my way 
to England, and must not lose any time. In 
the mean time, my darling, we shall have our 
happiness to cheer us during a brief separation, 
which must be the only drop of bitterness that 
shall fall into our cup of bliss.” 

The quick, pained look in the lovely eyes told 
him of the regret she felt at his goiiip-. But, 
though her lips quivered, she resolved to be 
brave, and as they reached the little side gate 
leading into the grounds. Colonel Strafford felt 
forced to tear himself from the presence of the 
dainty, lovely girl at his side, who, from excess 
of emotion, could not frame a sentence on her 


Adrienne 


209 


lips in farewell, but stood a moment where he 
had left her in the sweet scented twilight, 
straining her eyes, as she unconsciously 
stretched out her hands toward him, to catch the 
last glimpse of his figure as his horse carried 
him swiftly into the dusky shadows of the trees. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


Adrienne paused upon one of the tangled 
paths in her grandfather’s neglected flower- 
garden. On her arm hung a basket of freshly 
cut roses, on whose petals the morning dew- 
drops now sparkled in prismatic colors. While 
seeming to gaze abstractedly at the many bril- 
liant butterflies flitting from bush to bush sip- 
ping their morning libations of honey-dew, as 
they settled down now and then waving yellow 
and variegated wings, in reality she was pon- 
dering over the happy anticipation of soon see- 
ing Colonel Strafford, who would be in the 
United States at an early date. Besides, there 
was another impetus to pleasant meditation 
from a recent communication of Kittie’s, an- 
nouncing the fact that she might be expected at 
any hour. 

Her basket now filled with exquisitely col- 
ored and fragrant roses, Adrienne turned away 
from the garden, moving with easy graceful 
Step toward the veranda, where she seated her- 
self, proceeding, with a glad song in her heart, 
to select and arrange them for the different 
vases, and had nearly completed the delightful 
task, when her glance was attracted to the broad 


Adrienne 


211 


graveled drive by the sudden noise of wheels, 
and the next moment a young lady stepped out 
of a closed carriage, shrouded in deep mourn- 
ing, whose familiar figure and little trick of 
manner betrayed to Adrienne her dearly loved 
friend Kittie McVea. 

^'Oh, Adrienne,” cried Kittie, rushing up to 
her in the old impulsive way remembered so 
well by Adrienne, ‘‘your dear letter came to me 
as a welcome boon, for I had nearly despaired at 
the unspeakable monotony of my life.” 

“We have had a sad end to all our buoyant 
hopes,” said Adrienne, gravely; “but, as it is 
irremediable, it behooves us to acquiesce quiet- 
ly, leaving everything in the hands of One who 
has said we must trust in Him alone.” 

“Ah, do I not remember well,” laughed Kit- 
tie, the old merry sparkle in her sweet blue eyes, 
“that a disposition always to look on the bright 
side of things is one of the most striking char- 
acteristics of Miss de Courcelles’s equable 
nature ? But, I must say, for my part, that hav- 
ing made up my mind to eschew the marriage 
state — the idea of settling down into a common- 
place character, to live only for a husband and 
household duties not at all to my fancy, — I have 
resolved to leave this ‘vale of tears’ and travel 
to some distant mission point, perhaps in far 
away India, and there devote my time to the 
benighted heathens, and try and teach them the 


212 


Adrienne 


doctrine of humanity, at least, at the same time 
fill up my life usefully if not ornamentally/^ 

''Do you know, Kittie,’' said Adrienne, seem- 
ingf to have had a sudden inspiration, "I have 
just thought of a most delightful as well as 
feasible plan, that will give you ample field to 
indulge your philanthropic schemes, and will 
give to me the happiness of your companion- 
ship. I propose that you will go home with me, 
as some blessed star will soon be guiding me 
to the heathen land of the East, in which, you 
know, my tent is already pitched.” 

"Do you really mean it, Adrienne? You 
know so well how delighted I should be to go 
with you.” And Kittie’s face dimpled all over 
with sunny pleasure at the mere thought of it. 

They were seated at one of the handsome 
windows in Adrienne’s room, overlooking a 
summer landscape radiant in its beauty. 

"I am certain, Kittie,” Adrienne suddenly 
said, "you remember the gallant officer to whom 
I introduced you upon the morning of your 
visit to Mrs. Willesly’s. I had planned a sweet 
little romance connecting your destiny with that 
of Lieutenant Belden’s. But, alas, subsequent 
sudden and unexpected happenings exploded all 
my air castles like soap bubbles. And do you 
know, Kittie, from the tragic morning upon 
which we separated, to the present time, I have 
not heard a syllable from him.” 


Adrienne 


213 


“Then,” said Kittie, quickly, with a gleam 
of fun in her eyes, “you are not aware that upon 
that same day of which you speak, upon the re- 
treat from the river. Lieutenant Belden was so 
severely wounded that he was sent to my 
father’s house for timely attention. I am sorry 
to have to say, Adrienne, that your cunningly 
devised plans in regard to myself were wide of 
the mark, which I have occasion to know from 
whisperings through his parched lips during 
his feverish ravings of a certain 'oriental lily,’ 
whose 'dusky, dreamy eyes’ were luring him 
on to a certain paradisiacal state of delight. I 
confess that, taking umbrage at even his uncon- 
scious babblings, I mercilessly turned him over, 
with his rhapsodies, to the more considerate, 
tender care of my stepmother.” And Kittie 
gave way to a merry laugh. 

Cheerful company revived Adrienne’s flag- 
ging spirits, that had been suffering from too 
much solitude. The time glided by with sur- 
prising rapidity. Even after supper, not yet 
having exhausted their budget of innocent gos- 
sip, they repaired to the veranda, and after the 
manner of girls began to promenade as they 
continued the same lively chatter. There was 
no moon, but the brightly shining stars in the 
cloudless heavens seemed to have wrapped the 
earth in the shadow of twilight, and the air was 
pervaded with a sweetness like midsummer. 


214 


Adrienne 


But suddenly the young ladies were startled to a 
Standstill by an unearthly shriek of an owl 
close by. 

‘‘Ah!’' cried Kittie, drawing a long breath, 
“that is a gruesome omen. Old Mammy Jude 
at home, who is an oracle in such like, would 
solemnly proclaim some one is to die in this 
house.” 

“For shame, Kittie I” Adrienne retorted, with 
laughing scorn, “that a girl of your sense 
should conjure up a bogy out of an every-day 
owl. It is too absurd, and past believing.” 

“When it comes to that” spoke up Kittie, 
quickly, “will you show me a Southerner who, 
from early association with negroes, is not just 
a little bit superstitious? While I feel free to 
confess, that I find their superstition quite a 
picturesque feature of the negro race.” 

“Kittie,” smiled Adrienne, ironically, “your 
argument is impressive and logical.” 

Notwithstanding Kittie’s scarecrow, the two 
girls, tired and sleepy from their extra exertion 
during the day, undisturbed by night-winged 
spectre, goblin, or ghost, weird and unearthly 
and a part of night’s mystery, peacefully slum- 
bered on. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


“Miss Adr’en, Miss Adr’en!” was the call 
that roused Adrienne out of a deep sleep the 
next morning. “Is you awake?” 

“Yes, Hannah; what is it?” 

“Ole marster 'pears mighty po'ly dis mornin’, 
an’ Caleb sez mus’ he go fur de doctor ?” 

“Yes, Hannah, tell him not to lose a mo- 
ment, but go at once” And springing out of 
bed, Adrienne dressed rapidly, then flew down 
to the library and dashed off a message to Mrs. 
Vincent, to be sent by Caleb to the telegraph 
office. Then going to her grandfather’s rooms, 
and finding him in a stupor, she was inexpres- 
sibly shocked. But despite the solicitous 
efforts, and prompt application of remedies 
made to rouse him, Mr. Stanley grew steadily 
worse, and as the night was closing in, his soul 
passed out of its earthly tenement into the mys- 
terious state of the Eternal. 

But that her grandfather had not rallied 
sufficiently to recognize her, nor to leave any 
message behind, seemed to Adrienne inexpres- 
sibly sad. She was thinking of the mystery of 
death hidden from mortal eye, of the great 
forces beyond this scene of things, and of her 


216 


Adrienne 


grandfather’s fleeing spirit, when the doctor 
came up behind her and addressed her, 

'‘Miss de Courcelles, with great care, your 
grandfather perhaps could have lasted much 
longer, even with organic heart trouble, of 
which he died. But the strain of mind and ex- 
cessive worry over the issue of the war, alto- 
gether, has produced the sad result. His many 
friends will miss him and mourn his death. 
Mr. Stanley had a remarkable personality, and 
was looked up to and respected by all who knew 
him.” 

The time, for Adrienne, had she not been 
taken up with these unanswerable, intangible 
questions, with which she never before had been 
in contact, would have been inexpressibly 
dreary. 

Softly the neighbors came and went, not a 
voice was heard to disturb the solemn hush of 
death. 

Adrienne’s lovely face was grave and sor- 
rowful, but not unresigned. She was the only 
relative present at the funeral. Kittie was be- 
side her friend, all sympathy and affection, but 
felt utterly unable to aid or cheer at such a 
time. 

On their return to the great empty house, 
now wrapped in unspeakable gloom, they sat 
down silently together, while Adrienne now 


Adrienne 


217 


stared the fact in the face that her tender minis- 
trations to her ?-randfather were forever over. 

Suddenly the sound of wheels on the graveled 
drive broke in upon the brooding silence hover- 
ing over the two occupants of the hall. Secretly 
relieved, Kittie rose and moved to the window, 
at once turning to Adrienne and saying, 

‘‘A lady is coming up the walk.’’ 

The next moment Mrs. Vincent was ushered 
in. She walked directly up to Adrienne, and 
after kissing the girl with loving sympathy, she 
said, 

‘T wish I could comfort you, dear child, in 
this sudden trouble, and would have been with 
you at the beginning of your sad experience had 
it been possible for me to leave Belle, who was 
again prostrated by the news of her grand- 
father’s death, which struck her like a blow, just 
as she was beginning to slowly improve.” 

“I hope the shock will not prove serious. 
Meanwhile, it will take time to overcome her 
sorrow. Come, Kittie,” said Adrienne, smiling 
sweetly. “Mrs. Vincent, this is Miss McVea, 
my dear friend, who, fortunately, has been with 
me, so sweet and sympathetic.” 

“I am prepared to welcome cordially all your 
friends, Adrienne,” said Mrs. Vincent, as she 
took Kittie’s hand and flashed upon her a warm, 
gracious smile of greeting. 


218 


Adrienne 


"‘Mrs. Vincent/’ said Adrienne, ''you are so 
kind to come to us in our distress. I am sure I 
feel for you the tenderest love and gratitude.” 

"It is nothing. I am glad to have been able 
to come, even at this late hour. But, Adrienne, 
I have a proposal to make. It is my wish, since 
it will not be good for you two young ladies to 
remain alone in this great house, as you not 
only would be moped to death, but would grow 
morbid and sensitive, that you return with me 
to Washington. Get ready, for we must start 
at once.” 

Adrienne’s face lighted up at this proof of 
disinterested friendship, giving most earnest, 
appreciative thanks. Though for months past 
Adrienne’s life had been one of sacrifice, she 
clung fondly to the memory of her grandfather, 
whose sad end had filled her with inexplicable 
sorrow and pity. She strove, however, to con- 
ceal her distress from Kittie’s ever-watchful 
eyes, but the unconscious sadness plainly writ- 
ten upon her sweet face, Kittie had not failed 
to observe. 

One morning, when they had been in Wash- 
ington for a short while, Adrienne said sud- 
denly to Kittie, 

"What are we waiting for, Kittie ? No longer 
any impediment in our way, I propose to sail 
for home.” 


Adrienne 


219 


This question, for which Kittie had been 
anxiously waiting, was a genuine relief, as she 
was anxious to get away for a while from her 
native land, which held such bitter memories in 
the death of her father, and a disintegrated 
home. A message, accordingly, was despatched 
to Mr. de Courcelles to expect them at an early 
day. So they set to work with a will to make 
preparations for their journey. 

‘'Do you know, Adrienne,'’ said Kittie, “the 
thought is running through my mind of what a 
life of self-renunciation you have been living 
lately, chained to the fancies of an aged grand- 
father, while, even now, you are but hurrying 
forward to meet the demands of an invalid 
father, and minister again to declining age.” 

The first approach to mirth, since her be- 
reavement, flashed over Adrienne’s features, as 
she darted a look into Kittie’s unconscious face, 
but made no reply. 

Every plausible argument to persuade them 
from their purpose Mrs. Vincent sought to use. 

“Dear Mrs. Vincent, I am so grateful for all 
your kindness, but I feel sure my father would 
not approve of my delaying any longer my re- 
turn home,” said Adrienne, sweetly earnest. 
In the mean time, Mr. Strafford’s letters had 
been frequent, each one repeating the declara- 
tion of his love and devotion. He dreamed of 
nothing else beyond the fact that she had con- 


220 


Adrienne 


fessed her love, and that she now belonged to 
him. Once he dwelt upon the hour in which he 
had last seen her sitting in the midst of beauty 
stretching to right and left, while the golden 
light of the sun crested the hills around, and the 
water made music as it rippled by. Adrienne's 
next letter to him was an explanation of the 
cause of her sudden departure from America, 
expressing her deep regret at not being able to 
await his return to Washington. But the an- 
nouncement that he was expected to return in 
company with Lieutenant Havelock almost 
caused her to waver in her resolution. 

Miss Conrad was yet critically ill, but hope 
was brighter for her final recovery. 

On the register of the next out-going liner 
the names Adrienne de Courcelles and Kittie 
Lester McVea were plainly written. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


After a delightful voyage, Kittie was 
awakened early in the morning by the excessive 
sense of the intense silence and hush of every- 
thing. There was felt no more rolling of the 
ship, nor was there any dark smoke belching 
from her funnels, for the throbs of the great 
engine were still. 

‘‘Surely,’" thought Kittie, now sitting up in 
bed and rubbing her eyes, “we are at anchor.” 
And unable to withstand the impulse of curi- 
osity that assailed her, springing nimbly to her 
feet, she hurried through her toilet, though she 
made one of unusual care, then glided noise- 
lessly from the stateroom, leaving Adrienne to 
the undisturbed enjoyment of a morning nap. 
Making her way to the deck, suddenly the de- 
lights of an Eastern harbor, in all its resplend- 
ent beauty, spread its enchantment before her 
eyes. She looked across the glittering blue of 
the sea, to the waving palms in the distance, all 
of which filled her soul with a rapt sense of 
delight. 

But as her eyes now fell on the boats coming 
out to the steamer, and seeing no one whom 
she could decide was Mr. de Courcelles, a little 


222 


Adrienne 


disappointed, she turned and went back to the 
salon, encountering-, as she entered, a tall, ele- 
gant-looking stranger, a modern, self-possessed 
man of the world. 

‘‘I beg your pardon,’' she said eagerly, ‘'but 
if you have just arrived perhaps you can tell me 
whether or not an old gentleman is among the 
crowd in the boats ? My friend is expecting her 
father to meet us.” 

Lifting his hat, as his eyes lighted up with 
smiling interest, the stranger bowed and said, 

“Pardon me, but have I not the pleasure of 
addressing Miss McVea? While I am under 
the necessity of having to own that I am the 
venerable gentleman of whom Miss McVea is 
in quest.” 

She flashed a startled, wondering look at 
him, as she stammered forth, 

“Impossible! Surely, you are not Mr. de 
Courcelles?” A look of keen amusement was 
in his eyes as she hurried on. “Adrienne’s 
father, I remember, is a confirmed invalid, so 
old and feeble that he is forced to reside in the 
salubrious climate of Egypt, where alone he can 
move and have his being.” But he could not 
resist the merry gleam that shot from her eyes 
as she now glanced up into his. 

“As a matter of fact,” he answered, and his 
voice was low and sweet, “Miss McVea ex- 
pected to see an octogenarian — quite the imper- 


Adrienne 


223 


sonation of palsied, toothless senility. Is it not 
so?’’ and he laughed. Kittie was silent, as 
though reflecting upon an answer to so 
obviously an embarrassing question. 

‘‘I will admit,” she said, with some hesitancy, 
^‘that I received the impression from Adrienne 
at school.” But happily, Adrienne’s appearance 
on the scene spared Kittie the embarrassment 
of struggling through another sentence, soon 
forgetting her dilemma in watching the two, 
now absorbed in themselves, as she tried to 
realize the relationship between them. 

When the brilliant capital of Egypt, in all its 
oriental splendor, swept into view, Kittie’ s vis- 
ion was truly dazzled. 

‘What a paradise!” she exclaimed, in the 
ecstasy of delight. “Surely one could look 
upon this glowing picture with an unending 
exclamation of rapture. But, see, Adrienne, 
what a contrast to its ancient surroundings is 
that very modern equipage, with its liveried 
coachman, — seemingly so out of place, — now 
coming down to the landing.” 

“It is really true, father,” laughed Adrienne, 
“that this warm-hearted Kittie would vastly 
prefer trudging along in sandals, in sockless 
feet, over the burning sands, to carry out her 
idea of the eternal fitness of things.” 

Mr. de Courcelles laughed softly, caressing 
the careless, charming Kittie with his dark eyes 


224 


Adrienne 


as he assisted her into this same liveried turn- 
out ! Whereupon, as the young lady took her 
seat, she caught her breath, lifting her eyes in 
voiceless apology, as she mentally registered a 
vow that she would be careful in future to hold 
her precocious tongue after this imprudent piece 
of volubility on her part. 

They were soon bowling over a lovely boule- 
vard, through magnificent tropical trees, 
toward Mr. de Courcelles's residence, which 
they found sitting in a grove of palm, lemon and 
orange trees — in the midst of grounds filled 
with beauty and sweet odors intensely delight- 
ing the eye. Kittie, whose senses were 
charmed, had the gift of appreciating color, 
which belongs alone to artistic natures. With a 
healthy brain and heart her love of beauty had 
developed her perceptions over the ordinary. 
She was enchanted with all she saw. 

In darkened apartments the young ladies 
slept off their fatigue, and when the late after- 
noon came on, and they were drawn to the 
inviting shade and cool delight of the veranda, 
Adrienne appeared dressed in sheer white, re- 
lieved by a cluster of delicate pink flowers 
fastened at her belt, looking incomparably 
lovely. While Kittie added beauty and bright- 
ness to the picture with her sparkling dark blue 
eyes and halo of glittering hair round her 


Adrienne 


225 


charming face. Mr. de Courcelles, as he sat 
near smoking a cigar, was an appreciative 
observer. 

'‘Do you know, father,’' presently said 
Adrienne, smiling down on him, "I feel that I 
shall soon grow to love the glow of this ex- 
quisite land, and am beginning already to feel 
quite at home.” 

“That I should have consented to be separ- 
ated from you, Adrienne, has been a great mis- 
take. I realize it all now.” 

“Yes, but we must learn by sad experience. 
There can be no wise reason, however, that we 
should worry over past mistakes.” 

The mixture of ceremonious courtesy with 
gentle affection that marked Mr. de Courcelles’s 
manner toward his daughter secretly contrib- 
uted to Kittie’s amusement. While, day by 
day, the society of these charming young ladies 
seemed to Mr. de Courcelles all that was needed 
to make life perfect. The bewitching harmony 
and refinement of their sweet voices and cul- 
tured manners touched his heart with a long- 
ing after happiness, such happiness as one 
knows alone in domestic life. So, when it 
pleased them to tax his gallantry, he was found 
always ready and willing to do their behest — 
even to go with them wheresoever their fancy 
drifted, unconsciously developing, by the proc- 
ess, into quite a society man. 


226 


Adrienne 


There was something strangely fascinating 
to Kittie in Mr. de Courcelles’s personality. 
His distinguished bearing, the low music of 
his voice, were irresistible. She had never met 
any one like him. She was conscious of a thrill 
of delight running through her soul if he should 
speak. Besides, the atmosphere of luxury by 
which she was surrounded acted with magic 
effect. 

Once she placed her hand upon Adrienne’s 
shoulder, laughing merrily, as she peeped with 
mischief-loving eyes into her face, and said, 

‘‘What is it, Adrienne, your funny little 
Egyptian maid calls Mr. de Courcelles — ‘the 
rich howadji’ ? And I am sure it fits him down 
to the ground. Do you know, Adrienne, I am 
now going to make a ridiculous confession. 
Having caught the impression from you at 
school that your father was old, and a con- 
firmed invalid, you can imagine my profound 
surprise when he presented himself before us 
on the steamer upon our arrival.” And Kittie 
gave way to another merry peal of laughter. 

“Your mistake was wholly your own, Kittie. 
I am sure I had no intention of misleading 
you,” said Adrienne, laughing also. 

But as the weeks went by and there had been 
no communication from Colonel Strafford, the 
indescribable pain at Adrienne’s heart stopped 
the smiles on her lips, though she betrayed in 


Adrienne 


227 


no other way the bitterness she was suffering. 
Finally making up her mind that she would not 
cling to the love he thought so lightly of, as 
day succeeded day, she firmly endeavored to 
put it out of her heart altogether. And never 
once alluded to any part of her life spent in the 
United States. 

In the mean time, completely taken up with 
her own thoughts and her increasing admira- 
tion for the Orient, Kittie seemed not to notice 
the look of increasing gravity in her friend’s 
lovely eyes, but was heard to say to Adrienne 
in her usual blithesome, careless manner, 

“If this is the land of the heathen, Adrienne, 
I confess I am awfully in love with heathendom. 
But my prophetic soul tells me — all things hav- 
ing an end — that a change is coming in my life, 
nolens volens” 

As Kittie had repeatedly remarked that the 
pleasure craved above all others by her was a 
sail up the Nile, a picnic excursion on a native 
boat was agreed upon. Kittie’s heart was on 
her lips, and her eyes emitted flashes of raptur- 
ous delight, as they drove down to the boat, 
which, in honor of Kittie, was flying the United 
States flag. 

Soon they were seated together on deck 
under the protection of their sunshades, Mr. de 
Courcelles in white yachting suit and cap, the 
young ladies in white yachting dresses and 


228 


Adrienne 


caps, making a fascinating picture, modern in 
style though it was. The boat carried them 
steadily out from the landing, and on, and as 
their eyes were bent toward the receding domes 
and spires of the brilliant oriental city, Adrienne 
turned to her father and said, 

"Ts it not pleasant to glide into this tranquil 
atmosphere, where nothing is heard save imagi- 
nary whisperings from a dead past ?” 

‘‘Now, Adrienne,'' Kittie interposed with a 
laugh, and the usual gleam of mischief in her 
eyes, “I protest against prowling among petri- 
fied mummies, or raking into the sacred ashes 
of these extinct ancients, or conjuring up any 
of their unwilling ghosts. But rather let us 
extract all the enjoyment possible out of this 
day. Think of the felicity of sailing to a lux- 
urious October breeze on the historic Nile. The 
very thought, even, suggests a feeling of unal- 
loyed bliss." 

At the dinner hour a delicious repast was 
served on deck under the flapping awnings, 
which was gaily discussed by the laughing, 
chatting trio, after which, as Mr. de Courcelles 
lounged in a steamer chair, revelling dreamily 
in the luxury of an after-dinner cigar, he re- 
marked to the young ladies, 

“As Philae is the destiny of every modern 
tourist, suppose we continue our voyage as far. 


Adrienne 


229 


Though it is true little remains of its ancient 
glory, and that little is crumbling fast.” 

For an instant Kittie’s heart stood still. But 
Adrienne’s reply dashed all her hopes to the 
ground. 

‘‘As we are not tourists, or Egyptologists, we 
can defer our trip until we are more in the 
mood for exploring.” 

Kittie groaned in spirit, silently looking on 
at the gliding landscape, as she bemoaned the 
fact that her day’s pleasure must so soon be 
over. 

Late in the afternoon, as they came into the 
landing at Cairo, conspicuous among the new 
arrivals was a steam yacht, flying the British 
colors. Kittie, the first to notice it, cried out 
in irrepressible tones of curiosity, 

“Hello ! what does this mean ? See, what a 
distinguished-looking man.” All eyes now 
were bent upon two men standing near the 
water’s edge in close conversation. 

“I know the British consul, but the other is 
a stranger, and evidently a new arrival,” Mr. 
de Courcelles remarked. 

As our little crowd came on shore, the Brit- 
ish consul advanced to meet them, followed by 
the stranger. 

“Mr. de Courcelles, I have been waiting your 
arrival to have the pleasure of introducing my 
friend Lord Gilbert, just from England.” A 


230 


Adrienne 


cordial handshaking followed. But as Mr. de 
Courcelles presented the young ladies, Ad- 
rienne’s white, set face startled him, and as she 
still avoided his glance, naturally he began to 
read between the lines. While Kittie, who had 
been quick to detect the scintillations of a great 
joy in Lord Gilbert’s splendid eyes, felt the 
very air was permeated with mystery. 

Presently Adrienne said in low tones to her 
father, 

‘‘I must explain that I have just sustained a 
little shock of surprise in having discovered in 
Lord Gilbert a former acquaintance, known in 
the South as Colonel Strafford, a Confederate 
officer.” 

‘‘Good gracious !” Kittie exclaimed to herself, 
“what other revelation is in store for us?” 

The parties here concerned being of the high- 
est social culture, this little embarrassing epi- 
sode was passed over with exquisite tact, sub- 
siding into the usual well-bred ease that ever 
characterizes people of refined circles. Lord 
Gilbert assisted Adrienne into the waiting 
brougham, bending, and making the request to 
see her that evening at her father’s residence, 
which she granted with quivering lips, as she 
glanced up into his face from the depths of her 
lovely eyes, while her heart was throbbing wild- 
ly at being again in the sunshine of his presence. 
The color now coming and going in her cheeks 


Adrienne 


231 


revealed to Lord Gilbert how deeply she was 
moved by the ordeal she was undergoing, despite 
her effort at self-control. Later on, his card 
having been sent up to Adrienne, Lord Gilbert 
sat waiting in the drawing-room of Mr. de 
Courcelles’s residence, hungry for the sight of 
her sweet face. It was not long before he heard 
the silken folds of her evening dress making a 
swishing rustle as they swept the floor, when 
he caught his breath with momentary excite- 
ment, then turning gazed with all his eyes upon 
the exquisite dreamy loveliness of the vision of 
womanhood before him, but met her with the 
high-bred delicacy and courtesy that ever dis- 
tinguished his bearing, his voice betraying re- 
strained feeling as he spoke. 

“I feel that I am justly under the ban of your 
censure. I have been on the way all these 
weeks, and would have been here some time 
ago, but for a serious accident that forced us 
to put into port, where we were delayed under- 
going repairs. I wanted to confess in person 
that I was not under my full name in the United 
States. I thought a title over there would seem 
extremely out of place. Besides, I wished to 
avoid annoyance of any sort. But that I should 
lose my heart to a dear little American girl, I 
did not take into consideration. I dreaded the 
effect of a confession. It had the appearance 
of duplicity. But, surely, my darling, you can- 


232 


Adrienne 


not find it in your heart to withhold from an 
humble suppliant your generous forgiveness?” 
He almost trembled during the pause that fol- 
lowed, as he noticed the proud poise of the head. 
But the next moment as she glanced up into his 
face he saw nothing in the depths of those fasci- 
nating eyes save a melting tenderness. 

“During this interval of silence from you I 
have told myself over and over that to be mis- 
erable would be foolish imagination. For what 
would be the good of resisting one’s destiny? 
So, I resolved to be courageous and face life 
without any silly repinings, and try and fill up 
my days doing good for others. But,” now 
glancing timidly at him, “your explanation, and 
the fact that you are here^ has changed every- 
thing, and as we are commanded to forgive to 
the uttermost, I can afford to be magnanimous.” 
Her lips parted with a tremulous smile just as 
he drew her tenderly within his arms, and bent 
his head to seal the agreement with a fond, 
clinging caress upon their witching beauty. 

Inasmuch as Lord Gilbert had been recently 
attached to the diplomatic corps at Washing- 
ton, therefore due in the United States at an 
early date, it was arranged that the marriage 
should take place at once, thus giving him time 
to visit with his bride his estates in England 
before sailing for America. 


Adrienne 


233 


At this juncture Adrienne received a letter 
from Mrs. Vincent, descanting in glowing 
terms upon Washington society. The most im- 
portant and startling feature in her communica- 
tion was that of the marriage of Miss Belle 
Conrad and Sir Edward Havelock, which, the 
writer declared, had taken the young lady’s 
circle of friends by storm, while to no one — 
remembering the young lady’s penchant for a 
certain Confederate officer — had it been more 
of a surprise than herself. 

It seemed to Adrienne the irony of fate that 
she would have to live always a near neighbor 
to Lady Belle Havelock. “Yet,” she thought, 
“I only hope she will make him happy as he so 
justly deserves,” and she sighed deeply. 

In the mean time, the sudden announcement 
of Adrienne’s marriage had turned Kittie’s 
smiles to tears. She had been startled beyond 
self-control almost, and in the privacy of her 
own room gave way to bitter sobs. Traces of 
tears were on her cheeks when she appeared at 
the table, which Mr. de Courcelles, now silent 
and abstracted, did not seem to observe. There 
was only a pretense at a meal, while Adrienne, 
preoccupied also, now and then shot a sympa- 
thetic side-glance at her father. The entire 
situation grew unbearable to Kittie. She rose 
from the table and left the room. Flying up- 
stairs to her room she threw herself into a chair, 


234 


Adrienne 


giving way completely. She was overwhelmed 
at the thought of having to leave Adrienne's 
home, where she had never been so happy be- 
fore — till the aching in her heart became in- 
supportable, suddenly crying aloud, ‘'Oh ! why 
did I come here? Surely it is better never to 
have known than to have to forget." At last 
she drew herself together, drying her eyes, then, 
rising, bathed her face. The next moment, 
crossing the hall to Adrienne’s rooms, whom 
she found busily engaged superintending the 
packing of their trunks and boxes, she said in 
rapid tones, 

‘T am going below, Adrienne, and take one 
more turn on the lawn, one more lingering look 
over this lovely place, that I may carry the fra- 
grance of it away in my heart, and the beauty of 
it a lasting picture in my mind. For I realize 
that I am going never to return, while it will be 
your privilege to go and come at pleasure^’’ 
Closing the door, she ran as though pursued 
down the stairway, landing at the foot directly 
opposite the library, where remembering the 
life-like picture of Mr. de Courcelles hanging 
on the wall in this room, she could not resist the 
temptation to enter. Pushing open the door 
and going a few steps inside, suddenly she stood 
transfixed at seeing Mr. de Courcelles himself 
sitting beside a table, with bowed head resting 
on his hands, his attitude betraying an absorb- 


Adrienne 


235 


ing grief. Forgetting herself at sight of his 
sorrow, she went forward timidly. 

“Mr. de Courcelles,'' she said, with beating 
heart, “I now see your sore distress at having to 
give Adrienne up, just as you were so happy in 
her sweet society, and I cannot refrain from 
expressing to you my sincere sympathy.’" 

He had risen from his chair, and now stood 
erect, looking down into Kittie’s eyes with a 
smile. 

“You are a sweet comforter, and your words 
are very true. However, in view of the fact 
of having so lovely a daughter, it is the only re- 
sult for which I should have been prepared. 
But, in addition to this,” and now the musical 
tones of his voice trembled with a tender in- 
flection, “I am suffering in anticipation of your 
leaving with her. The thought has given me 
an indescribable shock. Can it be that, since I 
have had the happiness of knowing you — of 
having had your beaming presence in my home 
all these weeks — I must give you up ? Is it pos- 
sible, Kittie, you intend deserting me?” 

This sudden revelation of his love entered a 
sunbeam of joy into Kittie’s soul. He was 
answered by the radiance in her flushed face, 
though in much confusion she took refuge in 
quite a commonplace answer — 

“But, Mr. de Courcelles, you know that I 
must return to America with Adrienne.” 


236 


Adrienne 


'The simplest solution to the matter, under 
existing circumstances, will be that we are mar- 
ried at once. Will you consent to have it all 
arranged accordingly ?” his voice vibrating with 
the excess of his feelings. 

Kittie bowed her head a little, a thousand 
emotions playing over her charming face, then 
looking up, flashed a sweet, timid glance into 
his eyes as she replied, 

"It is all so wondrous strange, but as I cannot 
persuade myself to leave you, I freely consent 
to what you may think best,” and for a moment 
the solemnity and softness in her eyes had 
chased away the usual merry gleam. But Kittie 
suddenly vanished, leaving Mr. de Courcelles 
half-bewildered with the great joy that flooded 
his soul. 

The evening of this memorable day closed 
in the usual way. Adrienne and Kittie had re- 
paired to the drawing-room in evening dress, 
as was their custom, but neither felt disposed 
for conversation. They were sitting quite silent 
in the quiet hour, when Mr. de Courcelles came 
in, with the usual reserve in his bearing that 
marked him different from other men. His eyes 
at once sought Kittie’s, who returned the 
courteous bend of his head with a bewitching 
smile. Seating himself near them, he began, 
the tone of his voice presaging something of 
importance to be discussed, his foreign accent, 


Adrienne 


237 


thought by every one to be so indescribably fas- 
cinating, now particularly noticeable. 

“Has it ever occurred to you, Adrienne, how 
very lonely I shall be when you two young 
ladies are really gone, who have been the sun- 
shine of my house these weeks? I have been 
thinking over this critical hour in my life, and 
have come to propose a compromise. Suppose 
you leave Kittie with me.'’ 

Startled at this, Adrienne’s face became so 
white that Kittie was struck with alarm. But 
after reflecting seriously awhile, her innate 
good sense asserted itself, as, turning to him, 
she said, though there was suppressed excite- 
ment in her voice, 

“Father, I can appreciate your feelings and 
position, which upon sober reflection I must 
admit are natural. But I must own to have 
been strangely dense in the matter. I want to 
assure you that, having no real objection, 
I shall be happy in the thought that you are 
happy. Surely I have been simply stupid not 
to have expected this. Kittie,” now directing 
a penetrating gaze into Kittie’s happy eyes, “is 
this the outcome of our long friendship and 
attachment ?” 

Kittie threw a droll, mischievous glance 
toward Adrienne’s grave, questioning face, as 
she answered, with a breezy smile. 


238 


Adrienne 


‘The happy event of my future happiness, 
Adrienne, was shadowed forth when I felt my 
heart strangely warmed toward directing your 
tottering infant footsteps at school in carefully 
teaching your first ideas how to shoot. Surely 
there is a destiny that shapes our lives.” 

Mr. de Courcelles laughed, in which Ad- 
rienne joined. 

“How absurd you are, Kittie. But is it pos- 
sible you love him well enough to exile your- 
self for his sake?” 

“I am very willing to undergo the exile, as 
you term it, and am so happy that I feel as 
though some fairy has touched me with her 
wand of enchantment,” a soft flush suffusing 
her cheek as she met the eyes of the man who 
was so soon to be her husband. 

On the following morning two marriages 
were solemnized in the small English chapel. 
The brides wore gray traveling dresses of rich 
material, made over silk of the same color, their 
hats corresponding in shade. 

Happiness glowed in Adrienne’s beautiful 
face, while the rapture of delight shone in the 
depths of Kittie’s blue eyes; for it was her 
happy wedding-day. All the world seemed 
brighter, a sweeter fragrance came from the 
flowers, and her life seemed filled with a new 
spirit of beauty and thankfulness. Late in the 
afternoon Mr. de Courcelles and Kittie were 


Adrienne 


239 


standing on the quay in the soft blowing sea 
breeze, waving a tender adieu to Lord and Lady 
Gilbert, until the steamer had drifted far, and 
finally was lost to sight in the mists of the sea. 

From contending emotions of sadness and 
gladness Kittie’s eyes were drowned in tears. 
Her husband, presently leaning forward to 
catch a glimpse of her face, was struck with 
contrition at sight of her deluged orbs. 

“My darling, my sweet wife,” his voice >vas 
infinitely caressing, “it is because of my tender 
love for you that I shall give up living in the 
East, and return to civilization. You must not, 
for my sake, renounce all that will make life 
harmonious and pleasant for you.” 

Kittie’s tears suddenly ceased, as she raised 
her eyes to his and said, with emphasis, 

“I would not for the world agree to your 
making so great a sacrifice. It is my cherished 
desire to live always in this exquisite land. 
With my husband I have found a life filled with 
the spirit of blessing, a happiness in perfect 
love.” She said this softly, sweetly, with 
bewitching tenderness. We leave them under 
the benediction of an Eastern cloudless sky, now 
radiant from the after-glow of the setting sun. 





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